


Titanium

by TRASHCAKE



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Military, Alternate Universe - Pathcode Teasers, Alternative Universe - FBI, I'm not going to stop you, M/M, There's a lot of fight scenes but they're funny, You could call this a Lucky One/Monster AU if you wanted, gratuitous x-files references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 19:19:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7327075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TRASHCAKE/pseuds/TRASHCAKE
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luhan is an enigma, but Minseok has secrets of his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Titanium

**Author's Note:**

> As per usual, everyone is too Sassy for their own good.  
> As per usual I've made some sort of X-Files reference.  
> As per usual the summary makes this fic sound about 78% more serious than it actually is. 
> 
> Written for [Luminations](http://theluminations.livejournal.com/) 2016.

**/BEGIN REPORT/**

_i. EX-0-07_

He runs, but he does not know why. 

Sharp branches rip at the exposed skin of his chest and arms as he pushes through the dense underbrush. He should feel pain, should be dizzy with the loss of blood; cuts on his forearms dripping dark liquid onto the dirt below. 

He feels nothing. There is no pain, no fear only _instinct_. He cannot be found, should not be found; this he knows. And so he runs. 

Lights circle overhead; _they are searching_. The blades of helicopters whirl, men shout from the cockpit through megaphones. He does not stop to listen to their pleas. 

A glint of silver, fog lights catching on the tags around his neck. 

_K I M ,_  
M I N S E O K  
EX-0-07 

Something about them feels wrong. He knows it is him they search for, but the tags are distracting, uncomfortable where they lie against his chest; he cannot recall his name, he remembers nothing. 

He knows that the tags do not bear his name, he knows that the tags are more important than his life. The tiny sheets of metal jingle as he moves, they hang with the weight of a noose around his neck. 

_This is important._ Something inside him seems to scream, a voice that is not his own. It is familiar, somehow, a name and face on the tip of his tongue. All he can remember is harsh, bright lights. 

He runs, but he does not know why. 

And he will never stop.

\------

“Do you know who he is?” Director Wu Yifan stands to Minseok’s side, staring almost unblinkingly at the man behind the two-way glass. It’s odd for the director to take such a personal interest in a case, especially one with such a low profile. A trespassing John Doe, picked up in farmlands a few hours out of the city. Lacking in identification, the local police force handed him straight over to Minseok’s team. 

“No idea.” Minseok hums, thumbing the manila folder in his hand distractedly. There’s definitely _something_ familiar about him, the John Doe’s face reminds him of things and times and feelings he’d rather not dwell on. Minseok’s memory is good; almost inconveniently so. He’s probably seen their John Doe walking down the street at some point in his life, and that’s why he seems so familiar. At least that’s what Minseok tells himself. “Why are we interviewing him? Isn’t this a job for the police?” 

“He started swearing in Chinese when they tried to apprehend him.” Director Wu shrugs. He continues to observe the man through their hidden vantage point. He squirms in his seat, picking at the bandages at his arms and playing with the metal chain around his neck. “Local force think he’s some sort of illegal immigrant. Which makes him _our_ problem.” 

“There’s a _but_ in there, somewhere.” Call it intuition, but Minseok is sure that there’s something strange about this case. If it’s an open and close case involving illegal immigration, he’ll be pleasantly surprised. 

“I _know_ him.” Director Wu whispers, his hands shake as they press against the glass. “They’ve done X-Rays, taken blood and fingerprints. The lab will have the report by tomorrow. And when I find out his name, I don’t think I’m going to be surprised.” 

“If you’re so sure you know him,” Minseok starts, utterly perplexed by his superior’s behaviour. This man sits on the top rung of a national security agency. This man is one of the most powerful men in the country. This man shakes at the sight of a John Doe. “Then why aren’t you interviewing him?”

“You’re far less scary.” He laughs, Minseok shoots him his most intimidating glare in response. “Well, when you want to be.” 

“Let’s get this over with.” Minseok mutters, gesturing for the guard to open the door to the interrogation room. 

He leaves the director at the mirror, still peering through the glass with an unreadable expression. 

\-------

“My name is Special Agent Kim,” Minseok boredly recites as he enters the room, moving swiftly towards the table. The man flinches as the manilla folder encasing his file hits the metal surface with a loud _thunk_. “I’ve got a few questions for you, if you don’t mind.”

“I’m willing to bet,” The man says, avoiding Minseok’s gaze. His hands drop to his chest, clutching at something hidden beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. “That I have more questions than you.”

“What’s your name?” Minseok ignores him, beginning the interrogation without preamble. The man in front of him is beautiful, almost unrealistically so. But from the set of his jaw and the determination in his eyes, Minseok can tell there's nothing feminine about his John Doe. Not in the slightest.

“I don’t know.” He replies. There's a name on the tip of Minseok’s tongue, a flash of familiarity. Director Wu is right, there's something about this man; like a haunting reflection of past ghosts. Minseok _knows_ him.

“How long have you been in the country?” Minseok continues his questioning, ever the professional.The Man seems startled by Minseok’s prompting, raising an almost defiant eyebrow. 

“I don’t know.” He says, “But obviously long enough to become fluent.”

“Prior to your arrest, what is your most recent memory.” Silence. The man’s face scrunches in pained concentration, veins in his neck straining at the pressure. 

“ _Lights_.” He chokes out, eyes bulging as he regards Minseok. Hands scramble at his neck, nails digging into flesh-- chain ripping under the frantic grasping of his fingers. Taken aback, Minseok gestures for the guard; the man is struggling to breathe, ragged gasps of breath echoing through the room. “Helicopters lights blood _this is important_.” 

“What,” Minseok says in a panic; on one hand, the man is in dire need of medical attention. On the other, he seems to be remembering. Minseok wants to obtain all the information he can before the suspect is taken away, “What’s important?” 

“ _Kim Minseok,_ ” He rasps, breathing beginning to even out. The attack seems to be ending, the man slumping forward on the table as he faints. The chain in his hands slips from his fingertips as his body relaxes, the sound it makes upon contact with the floor drowned by the sound of slamming doors; the medical staff arriving to take the man away. 

In the chaos, Minseok quietly retrieves the chain, drawing back at surprise by the silver dog tags hanging from broken links. 

_K I M ,_  
M I N S E O K  
EX-0-07 

Harsh light reflects off the polished metal, and Minseok observes his own name carved along the surface with wide eyes and shaking hands.

There’s a John Doe running around with Minseok’s name around his neck, bearing dog tags Minseok has neither owned, nor seen. 

It could be a coincidence, but it’s also an implication of his involvement in this case as something other than an investigative force. 

Pushing a hand through his hair, Minseok sighs. As per usual, his intuition is almost terrifyingly accurate; no matter what this case is, it’s anything but open and close.

\------

Special Agent Kim Minseok has been described in many ways; dedicated, aloof, systematic and thorough. Some would even go so far as to call him _cold_ \-- a genius agent and lone wolf, someone with enough regard to pick and choose the cases he works. 

Not one person would dare to think of Minseok as the type of agent to withhold evidence, but as he slips the metal chain of John Doe’s dog tags around his neck, he thinks that every agent is allowed a minor rebellion from time to time.

The tags are light-weight and military grade, made to withstand hell so that they might identify someone who perishes in the fire. 

They feel like a noose around his neck. 

Minseok’s bathroom mirror is covered in grime and mould, his reflection stares back at him; distorted and blurred. It doesn't feel right to wear the tags-- they bear his name but he was not meant to wear them. It's like he's wearing someone else’s skin, someone else's burden.

He keeps the windows open, even in the midst of winter. Minseok can't stand the heat, the cold doesn't ache in his bones. He welcomes the chill like an old friend. 

The tags cool, night air causing them to burn against his bare chest. 

Minseok sleeps. 

His heart beats against what feels like someone else's name.

\-------

**Sender: iknowyou@youdontknowme.com   
Subject: (no subject)**

_EX-0-07 LU HAN_

It's strange how nostalgia hits, seemingly out of the blue. A song, a scent, a phrase; everyday things that hold a world of memories. 

For Minseok, it's a name. One he hasn't heard in a long time.

Luhan, one of Minseok’s classmates in the academy, bore a silver tongue, quick wit and an enviable roundhouse kick. Brains, brawn and beauty, Minseok remembers the way Luhan would smile at him, bright and full of mirth-- almost innocent, in a way-- moments after knocking Minseok to the ground during a routine sparring session. 

Torn between wanting to run his hands through the mess of Luhan’s bleached blonde hair and asking for a rematch, all Minseok could do is smile back, small and unsure. 

It’s been seven years since Minseok last saw him, their paths diverging as they entered service. Minseok as a field agent, Luhan, who, in a shock move, decided on a career in profiling and interrogation.

He may have quit, may have been moved on to bigger and better things, but Minseok has always hoped for a reunion and finds that on occasion, the budding crush from his Academy days will rear its head.

“Do you remember Luhan?” Director Wu is almost stereotypical, with his never ending cups of cheap, black coffee and awful ties. He looks like a run of the mill agency director from some dated 90’s cop show; grey hairs littering his temples, snarky, dismissive attitude and all. In fact, Minseok is sure that the small _No Smoking_ sign sitting on the corner of his desk is some sort of reference to The X-Files.

“Yeah, from the academy,” That name again. More memories. Minseok’s secret smiles as an enthusiastic Luhan answers yet another question correctly, the sharp pain in his chest as one of Luhan’s kicks to connect to his sternum. The tightness that follows, and Minseok’s uncertainty if it's from the blow or the way Luhan seems to glow under the fluorescent lights. “I remember him.” 

“He went missing, not long after his first case,” There's a manila folder in Director Wu’s hands, he frowns at whatever files it holds, “Presumed dead.”

“You're saying our John Doe is a former agent?” The Luhan in his memories are blurred, the fine details of his features lost to time. It makes sense, though, the familiar fire in the John Doe’s eyes. It's Luhan, without a doubt. 

“He’s been through hell,” Director Wu explains, flicking through the files in his hands with a lazy stroke of his thumb, “Scans revealed scar tissue along the base of his skull, multiple insertion points along his forearm.” 

He swallows uncomfortably, “Toxicology reports show traces of Lysergic Acid Diethylamide, Barbituric Acid and Amphetamine in his system.” 

“That’s MKUltra,” Minseok’s mind reels in shock. There's no way the combination of drugs could be self-inflicted. Luhan would have been a delirious, babbling mess, the combined effect of the drugs in his system rendering him almost incompetent, “That combination of drugs, they’re from the old MKUltra experiments.” 

“Luhan was an experiment alright,” Director Wu stares solely at his feet, shifting uncomfortably as the weight of his words being to sink in, “We have reason to believe he was vivisected.” 

“Jesus Christ,” Minseok mutters. Just the implication has his stomach churning, rage building on disgust. He fights the urge to dry heave, willing the mental images away. 

“The objective of your case has changed,” Director Wu hands Minseok the manila folder, the contents of which contain details of Luhan’s medical records, “We know who he is, and now I want you to find out what happened to him.”

“I'll get right on it,” Minseok replies quietly, hands curling around the folder. His grip is a little too strong, the flimsy cardboard buckling quickly, “Leave it to me.” 

“Because he's technically still an agent, we'll be putting him through the appropriate rehabilitation program,” Director Wu says, seemingly sensing Minseok’s concern, “You can question him once he passes the psych evaluation.”

“Thanks,” Minseok mutters, turning on his heels and promptly heading towards his office. 

Director Wu frowns, watching as his retreating figure rounds the corner and out of sight. 

\------

Minseok still wears Luhan’s tags, they're cold as they rest against his skin. 

“Woah!” Distracted by his train of thought, Minseok only barely avoids the tray of coffee that flies through the air in front of his face, “Sorry about that, Special Agent Kim!” 

The shared office of the new recruits is a hive of activity. People bustling to and fro, rambunctious chattering to ease the boredom of low-level tasks. Every agent starts here, and most move on from the soul-crushing monotony of background checks on petty thugs and transcripts. 

Each intake has a personal punching bag, the runt of the litter who barely made it through the academy in one piece, scraping passing grades by the skin of their teeth and sheer determination alone. 

The current runt is less small in stature but more so in will; Special Agent Oh Sehun has more than a head in height on Minseok, but cowers under his gaze none the less. 

Honestly speaking, he's not a bad kid. In fact, Minseok would go so far as to say that Sehun is his favourite; a little green, but new recruits always are. Minseok’s never had a partner, but once Sehun’s survived his probationary period in the proverbial snake pit, he might just request for one. 

“That’s okay, Special Agent Oh,” Minseok sees no point in referring to people by their title, but the kid smiles so brightly when he uses it. Sometimes he likes to remind Sehun that he's made it, he's a special agent. A little pick me up when he's demoted to coffee duty for the umpteenth time, “I wasn't paying attention.” 

“It's not like you to daydream, Minseok,” Coffee seeps into the carpet, and Special Agent Zhang Yixing comes to the rescue. Pulling a wad of napkins from somewhere within the breast pocket of his suit, “A penny for your thoughts?” 

“Just case stuff,” He replies with a flippant wave of his hand. Minseok ignores the look of disbelief on Sehun’s face; one aloof agent refers to him by title, while the most popular member of staff helps him clean coffee from green, ageing carpets, “Nothing big.” 

“Must be big if it's making you lose your cool,” Yixing winks at him obnoxiously from his position on the floor. Handing the soiled napkins to a shell-shocked Sehun, he nimbly navigates through the throng of snickering onlookers, “Stay chill, Iceman.” 

“There's a bin in the break room,” Minseok idly points out, returning Yixing’s parting wave with one hand and gesturing to the soggy mess in Sehun’s grip with the other, “Quick, before it starts to drip on the floor.” 

“Yes sir, thank you Special Agent Kim, sir!” Sehun babbles, darting through the crowd. He's heading in the complete opposite direction to the break room. Minseok shakes his head with a small chuckle. 

“Back to work!” He barks at the recruits, most of the room long since pausing their tasks to watch the scene unfold. Some groan audibly, perhaps because they're reminded of their unending, mindless tasks. Perhaps because they wanted to see Sehun scolded by their senior agents. Most probably a combination of the two, Minseok claps his hands sharply to encourage them along, “C’mon now, quickly.” 

It seems as if Yixing’s in the market for another partner, considering the time he's spending on the floor with the recruits. Minseok often sees him observing the room with a contemplative gaze, eyes more often than not trained on an unknowing Sehun. 

The kid has more potential than most people realise, far more than anyone else he's seen before. Top of his class in both academics and combat, the way he fights is calculated and almost like breathing. With the right mentor he'll shine, a real diamond in the rough. 

He could be the next Special Agent Kim, if he tries hard enough. And Minseok wants to see it happen.

\------

_ii. EX-0-94_

Luhan’s case can't be investigated until he's released from hospital. With too many questions and not enough leads, it's not worth wasting valuable hours of investigation. It's a curious case, essentially becoming colder with each passing day, but it can't be helped. Minseok shelves the files, allowing them to collect dust as the months pass.

“Yo,” There's someone in his chair, someone very familiar, “Has anyone told you that your office is fucking cold?”

“I don't like the heat,” Minseok mutters, watching as Luhan spins around in his (admittedly very expensive) office chair, “What are you doing here?”

“Nice place you've got here,” Luhan either doesn't hear him or doesn't acknowledge him. Minseok is willing to bet it's the latter, “All dungeon-y and stuff. Very X-Files.” 

Minseok’s office is downstairs, located next to the records room. It allows him to work in silence. Plus, no one wants to share an office with someone who keeps the air-conditioning at such a low temperature. It's a win-win situation, as far as Minseok is concerned. He gets his quiet, cold work space. His co-workers keep their extremities safe from frostbite.

“So, Mulder, what's our first plan of action?” Past Minseok must have been far too enamoured by Luhan’s smile to notice how brash, and quite frankly _obnoxious_ his personality is. It’s almost endearing in its own way, but Minseok still feels the telltale throb of a headache brewing across his temples. 

“You still haven't answered my question,” Minseok says bluntly, “Why are you here?” 

“I’ve been reassigned to my former position,” Luhan grins, “I’ve had my two months of medical leave, and now I'm ready to work.” 

He threads his fingers together, pushing them outwards. His joints _pop!_ obnoxiously, the noise reverberating through the office. 

“More like seven years,” Minseok mumbles, rubbing at his face in irritation, “Wait, how do you know how to use that?” 

Luhan looks almost innocent as he looks up from his iPhone. Somehow he's managed to insert one ear bud into his ear, the app for YouTube already open and playing some sort of cat video.

“Oh, this? They taught me during my _Cultural Integration_ lessons,” His free hand curls into quotation marks as he speaks, eyes rolling in annoyance, “Useless waste of two months, honestly.” 

“I thought you were in rehab?” Minseok is confused, he is very confused, “You were a mess when we found you.” 

“I was drugged up to my eyeballs,” Luhan shrugs, “Once they wore off, I was completely fine.” 

Minseok stares at him in disbelief. 

“Well, apart from the whole memory loss thing,” Luhan shrugs. He seems completely unbothered by the fact that he's spent the last seven years of his life as a human test subject, “But once I started learning I picked it all up pretty quickly.” 

“You were always a fast learner,” Minseok replies. 

“Yeah, I even engaged in some self-study, to catch up on the things they weren't covering in class,” It is truly baffling how blase Luhan is being about the whole thing. He's either putting up a front, or he's literally so laid back that nothing can bother him. Minseok’s not sure which one is more terrifying. 

“Oh really?” Minseok says with a drawl, “Impart your knowledge to me, oh wise one.” 

“JYJ deserved better, I'm glad King Joffrey is dead and the bathroom in the rehab centre has excellent selfie lighting,” Luhan has the nerve to look proud of himself. 

“I don't know why I was worried,” Minseok stares at him incredulously, “You'll fit right in.” 

“Right?” Luhan has either not noticed Minseok’s sarcasm, or is ignoring it. He's starting to sense a trend here, “As for your earlier question, I'm here because I'm your new partner.” 

Minseok doesn't reply. 

“Where's my desk?” Luhan looks at him hopefully, fiddling with the tangled earphones idly as he waits for a response. 

“I'm working _your_ case,” Minseok speaks calmly, though he feels the urge to scream in frustration, “You can't work _your own case_.”

“Correction!” Luhan exclaims with glee, “ _We_ are re-opening _my_ old case. The one I disappeared on.” 

“That’s unorthodox,” Minseok stammers, “Director Wu would never--”

“It was his idea, actually,” Luhan cuts him off, “Everything’s still fresh in my mind, so it's not so much of a cold case anymore.” 

If it's the director’s will, Minseok can't really fight it. It's unlike him to complain, and if the higher ups have any issues with it, the blame falls on Director Wu’s head, not his own. 

“I look forward to working with you, partner,” Luhan takes his silence as resignation and acceptance, tipping an imaginary ten-gallon hat in Minseok’s direction, “Now, about that desk.”

Minseok’s temple throbs. He foresees the need for painkillers in his immediate future.

 

\------

Luhan’s first and last case was the disappearance of Doctor Kim Junmyeon, Biology professor at a local university. Underground crime rings were implicated, but with no solid evidence, the investigation ground to a halt. The last details of the case were written by Luhan himself, claiming that several low-level gang members were implicated in sales of black market medical supplies, and that they may have had something to do with Dr. Kim’s disappearance.

Nothing links the professor and organised crime, it's a reach, but it's the only lead they've got. 

Minseok’s life becomes research and coffee, jotting down notes as Luhan recounts things he wasn't able to update before his own disappearance-- some useless, such as Dr Kim’s hair colour at the time (blond), and that security footage reveals he was taken during his nightly walk home from the labs, as both his office and apartment remained undisturbed.

“They probably took Dr. Kim to the frontlines,” Occasionally, Luhan talks in riddles, speaks of things he wouldn't have known prior to his disappearance. Small memories trickling through the mental block. What he remembers becomes tangled with facts about Dr. Kim, with Minseok left desperately trying to separate Luhan’s fleeting, confusing recollections from case information, “You need doctors when you're at war.” 

“Luhan,” Minseok says gently, “We're not at war.” 

“Oh,” Luhan shakes his head, as if to clear the foggy memories from his mind, “Ignore me, I have no idea what I'm talking about.” 

“I try and ignore you,” Minseok tries to joke, but his voice is tender. “But I just can't seem to.”

It sounds less like a jab at Luhan and more like a confession. Spending days on end with only Luhan for company has lit the fires under his old academy crush. He's annoying, almost unbearably so, but he’s also intelligent, witty and charming; Minseok finds himself once again unbelievably smitten. 

“Woah, tense,” Minseok doesn't register the silence, nor the fact that he was gazing into Luhan’s eyes almost lovingly, “Am I interrupting?” 

Director Wu has awful timing, but also an awful inability to read situations. The way he fidgets with his sleeve implies that he’s of the assumption that the two are fighting, that Minseok wants to punch Luhan’s mouth rather than kiss it.

“Not at all,” Minseok clears his throat, “What's up?” 

“You mentioned the Red Moon Syndicate in your monthly report,” Director Wu begins, “I've got one of their guys in on an unrelated matter, but I figured you might want in on the interrogation.” 

Minseok meets Luhan’s eyes, they brim with all too familiar determination. 

“Yeah, let's do this,” Luhan says, voice revealing no emotion, “I'm ready.” 

“Hey,” Luhan almost scrambles towards the door in eager haste, “What makes you think _you're_ doing the interrogation?”

Minseok tries to ask as he's still in the room, but Luhan is long gone. 

He's never seen a person move so fast. 

\------

Sehun waits patiently behind the two-way glass, he's frowning, but the way his hands shake give away his nerves. He also doesn't seem to be breathing, which is mildly concerning. 

“You alright, Special Agent Oh?” Minseok claps him on the back, joining him at the glass. In the interrogation room, the suspect fiddles with his hands in boredom. 

“Yeah, I'm on my first observation,” Sehun’s year is nearly up, they'll be placing him on routine tasks in each department to see where he'll fit best. “Where’s your partner?” 

Surprisingly, Minseok arrives at the interrogation room before Luhan does. 

“He's probably lost,” Director Wu says with a sigh, “I'll go find him, you two can start without us.”

The interrogation is, for lack of a better word, a disaster. Minseok can't get him to break; the suspect is a low-level thug, but he's got big ambitions. He won't sell out his group, and the crime he's in for won't yield much jail time. Vehicular Theft is a minor offence, but considering the vehicle he tried to steal was an armoured truck, he might be in for a little longer than usual. 

“Sorry,” Minseok bows his head as he walks back into the observation room. He's decided to take a break, rest and recuperate. Maybe leave the suspect for a while to see if he'll confess out of boredom, “He's ambitious and stubborn.” 

“He’s an idiot,” Sehun mumbles, “The truck he tried to steal belongs to a bank, but there was no money in it.” 

“What?” During Minseok’s failed attempts at getting the suspect to talk, Director Wu has evidently tracked Luhan down. His partner is restless and jittery, it's obvious he wants to try his hand at the interrogation. After so long away from the field, this is Luhan’s first real taste of active duty. Minseok understands the need to get back into the thrill of doing something other than paperwork, “That’s dumb, let me talk to him.” 

Director Wu shrugs as if to say “Go ahead”, Luhan takes the nonverbal cue and all but barrels into the room. 

“Hey,” The suspect is startled by Luhan’s noisy, ungraceful entrance. Almost tripping in excitement, Luhan sits directly on the table instead of the allocated chair, “I'm Special Agent Lu Han.”

“Someone’s excited,” Director Wu snickers watching as Luhan attempts his interrogation, arms flailing wildly as he speaks, “At least he introduced himself.” 

“You weren't trying to rob the bank,” Luhan says, looking at the suspect imploringly. His line of questioning shocks the onlookers, Minseok and Sehun exchanging confused expressions from behind the glass, “Were you, uh…” 

“Sanghyuk,” The suspect supplies his name, clenching his fists and staring everywhere but in Luhan’s direction, “And no, I wasn't.”

“You need the vehicle for some other reason, don't you, Hyuk?” Luhan speaks almost sweetly, as if the suspect was his younger brother, “I can call you Hyuk, right?” 

“I, sure.” Sanghyuk replies, “You can call me that.” 

“What did you need the van for, Hyuk?” Luhan prompts, “You can tell me.” 

“The project is complete, but they’re not happy with the status quo. They're gonna take their property by force, apparently.” The words spill from Sanghyuk’s mouth, almost unbidden.

“What’s the project?” Luhan’s voice darkens, gone are the sweet tones. It’s like there’s two different people within him, he plays both sides of the _Good Cop, Bad Cop_ routine almost flawlessly. 

“I don't know what it is, but it's big, and it's dangerous. I don't know who they're working with, either.” Sanghyuk continues with his verbal dribble, secrets spilling from his lips. He seems almost disbelieving, like he can't understand why he's talking. 

“I need names, Hyuk,” Luhan hisses, “You got names for me?” 

“We use codes, I don't even know the names of the guys I work with,” Red Moon has a good system, you can't betray people you don't technically know. It's good for them, terrible for people like Minseok, who work tirelessly to shut down their operations. 

Luhan sighs, almost as if he's disappointed. He makes to leave the room, like a parent walking out after scolding a child.

“Wait!” Sanghyuk cries, stopping Luhan in his tracks, “He's not one of us, but I have a name.”

Luhan doesn't speak, just stares at Sanghyuk, all fire and determination in his eyes. It’s terrifying, and the suspect looks appropriately scared. 

“Kim Junmyeon,” He says, voice shaking, “I didn't hear the context, but our boss kept talking about some guy named Kim Junmyeon.” 

“Thank you, Hyuk,” Luhan smiles sweetly, at him. The poor suspect looks almost broken. The realisation of what he's done hits him; Sanghyuk has revealed information to the authorities. It will get out, it always will. Sanghyuk is a dead man walking, the price paid for revealing information is surely death.

“Wow,” Sehun whispers, “That was amazing.” 

Minseok can't help but nod in agreement.

 

\------

Luhan falls asleep almost immediately after reaching the office, leaving Minseok to sort out the paperwork as he snores lightly in the corner. 

Kim Junmyeon is alive, and he's somehow connected to the Red Moon Syndicate. He's somehow involved with a plan to steal an armoured vehicle, and somewhere along the line, he’s wrapped up in some sort of deal with a criminal organisation. 

So much information but so little to go on, Dr. Kim’s life before his disappearance was surprisingly dull. Research into his close friends and family comes up bust, with none to speak of. 

His old research team from the university holds a little more promise, but only in the way that they've all met similar fates. An old photo located deep within the file shows six men, one of which is Kim Junmyeon. On the back is a list of names, written in what Minseok now recognises as Luhan’s loopy cursive:

_Kim Kibum - deceased 04/06_  
Lee Jinki - deceased 08/06  
Choi Minho - missing 06/05  
Lee Taemin - missing 06/05  
Kim Jonghyun - deceased 09/07  
Kim Junmyeon - missing 03/09 

Over the span of four years, each member of the research team either died, or disappeared. Starting with Dr. Kim Kibum and ending with Junmyeon. 

They must have parted ways before the first incident, otherwise, there'd be no reason to investigate them as separate cases. It's a wonder that Lu Han was the first, and perhaps the only person to figure it out. 

Choi Minho seems achingly familiar, though Minseok has no idea where he could have possibly met the missing doctor. He swears he has memories of Dr. Choi, can vaguely recall the smell of alcohol and the sound of music. The sound of Minho’s deep voice as he tries to speak over the noise. 

_Ding!_

A notification draws him from his confusing memories. His phone has automatically refreshed his email inbox. He has one new message.

**Sender: iknowyou@youdontknowme.com   
Subject: (no subject)**

_IT’S DANGEROUS TO GO ALONE. HERE, TAKE THIS._

_EX-0-94 OH SEHUN_

The mysterious emails seem far more threatening than helpful. Almost as if they're targeting those closest to Minseok, a thinly veiled warning that he walks a dangerous path.

Minseok puts in a transfer request, asking for Sehun to be brought on board as a helper to the case. He'll mostly go on coffee runs, maybe do some filing. But he'll be close, and the closer he is, the better Minseok will be able to protect him. 

The same goes for Luhan.

Searching for Kim Junmyeon might be a dangerous mistake, but Minseok will make sure that both Luhan and Sehun survive the investigation.

On his own life be it.

\------

 _iii. EX-0-88_

Minseok’s office is too warm. It’s not unlike the cleaning staff to adjust the temperature, but if feels more like those warm sunny days that Minseok actively despises than his usual frigid solace.

The reason for the unnatural warmth is Luhan’s presence; not because his heated personality or megawatt smile, but because he's obviously been fiddling with the thermostat. 

Sitting at his newly installed desk, Luhan hums along to one of Jaejoong’s newest songs, the track echoing from the speakers of his laptop and projecting through the room. Minseok is consistently in awe of Luhan’s ability to adapt; he's missed seven years of technological advancement, but after six months in the outside world he's managed to not only install iTunes on his (government supplied) laptop, but also set up an Apple Music account. 

“You’re here early,” Minseok comments, cutting through Jaejoong as he sings about broken hearts, “We're not supposed to start for another hour.”

Minseok arrives at work at precisely 7:30am each day, and he spends the first hour preparing for his cases, as well as trekking to the other side of the building in order to use the good coffee machine. It's no artisan espresso, but it uses proper coffee beans and steams the milk in a vaguely acceptable manner. 

Luhan, already elbow deep in case files, seems to have arrived even earlier, coffee from Minseok’s favourite machine already half drunk and cooling in a patch of clear space. 

“I haven't been approved for an apartment, yet,” Luhan replies sleepily, punctuating his sentence with a yawn, “I've been sleeping in the office.” 

“For six months,” Minseok deadpans. 

“Yeah, well, when all your records say that you've been dead for seven years, potential landlords tend to think you're involved in identity fraud and not a former missing person,” Luhan, as per usual, seems completely unbothered by his situation, “Plus, I work late and get up early. There's no real point to paying rent for a place I'll never be in, anyway.” 

“I have a spare room,” Minseok says. It's full of old books, a treadmill that's covered in an inch of dust, but there's a bed. It makes sense for Luhan to move in, Minseok can protect him easier from down the hall rather than across the city, “You can move in with me, if you want.”

“Really?” Bright, imploring eyes, shining with gratitude. Minseok’s stomach twists with affection, “You won't get sick of me?”

“Probably,” He replies, ever blunt. He smiles, though, trying to convey that he's only half joking, “But I'd rather you live with me than in the office.” 

“Thanks, Minseok,” Luhan grins, “You're too good to me.” 

Before Minseok can reply, there's an ungodly crash from outside the office. The door rattles in its hinges, the metal Venetian blinds swaying with the force. It sounds like someone has run head first into the door. 

“Fuck,” Someone hisses from outside, Luhan’s hysterical laughter drowning out their pained mutterings. 

Sehun carefully pushes the door open, rubbing at his forehead with a pained grimace. This only causes Luhan to laugh louder, the bright sound so out of place in the darkness of the office. 

“Sorry, Special Agent Kim, Special Agent Lu,” He regards them sheepishly, “I got a bit too excited.” 

“Your enthusiasm is wonderful,” Minseok says, barely restraining laughter of his own, “And it's Minseok. We're partners now.” 

“Yeah,” Luhan cheers, holding a thumbs up in Sehun’s direction, “How does it feel to be the first intern to get a promotion?” 

“Really good, actually,” Sehun offers them a small smile, “Thank you so much.” 

“No problem,” Luhan speaks as if having Sehun assist them on the case was _his_ idea and not Minseok’s, “But you're still a junior agent, and my coffee has gone cold.” 

Sehun groans, already knowing where Luhan’s train of thought is headed.

“Coffee, black, one sugar,” He dictates, “From the good machine in the IT department.” 

“I hate you,” Sehun whines, but he obeys none the less, “I really do.” 

“Welcome to the workforce, kid!” Luhan calls obnoxiously as Sehun’s retreating form. 

“We should get him a desk,” He says after a moment, turning to Minseok, “And a computer.” 

Minseok’s office is meant for one person, not three. Just fitting Luhan’s desk in along his own has been a monumental struggle. They're going to have to downsize, and probably rearrange. He resists the urge to bury his head in his hands and groan out loud. Director Wu isn't going to like the added expenses to his tiny department.

Luhan takes Minseok’s silence as acceptance, and grins in triumph.

Not for the first time, Minseok is left wondering if he's really in charge of the case at all.

\------

The Red Moon Syndicate is hard to trace. Minseok pours over numerous case files, trying to figure out a common theme, some sort of lead into Dr. Kim’s whereabouts, but he comes up blank. 

Along with their use of code names, they've been implicated in a wide variety of crimes, from arms dealing, to drug trafficking, art theft and political assassinations. One colleague of Minseok’s suspects they’re beginning to dabble in human trafficking as well, with several known members of the syndicate seen accepting money from illegal brothels. Minseok entertains the thought of Dr. Kim having been taken to one of these establishments, but Sanghyuk’s confession renders the theory useless. 

He's got nothing. 

Or rather, he's got something, but he doesn't quite understand the importance of the information. Not yet. 

One name keeps appearing in all the Red Moon files. He's not an operative, and he's not loyal to one faction of the group, often seen in Japan one week, China the next. Some reports have him in two places at once, in a bizarre turn of unbelievable events.

His name is Kim Jongin, and he's somewhat important. Low-level members of the group use his name as a bargaining chip, an attempt to get out of a jail sentence, or to reduce their time behind bars. It seems like the mysterious member is their scapegoat, someone they can offer up as a theoretical sacrifice to the authorities.

It’s become a joke amongst those who work Red Moon cases, so much so that no one has actively bothered to research him. According to their database, the man named Kim Jongin doesn't exist. He's the Loch Ness monster of the organised crime department, and anyone who believes in his existence is mocked mercilessly.

“Try the defence force database,” Sehun suggests one day, noticing how frustrated Minseok has become over the seemingly omnipresent suspect, “Guys in service don't show up on our records.”

It's a brilliant idea. Sehun is full of fresh ideas, he thinks so far out of the box that Minseok is often left in awe of his suggestions and theories. He's a good addition to the case, contrasting with Minseok’s By The Book attitude and Luhan’s nonchalance; they form a good, complete team.

As per Sehun’s advice, Minseok gains access to the military database. Lo and behold, Private Kim Jongin of the Armed Forces Division is a real person, and his ID photo matches the descriptions taken from Red Moon members.

They've found him. 

“There is literally nothing here apart from general information,” Minseok groans, “I've got his height, weight, date of birth and blood type, but all the details of his service are classified.” 

“He must be one of those Secret Soldiers,” Luhan says with his usual air of nonchalance, “Those dudes who apparently don't exist, and fight in the Secret War?” 

“No,” Minseok says flatly, he's heard the conspiracy theories, paranoid people on the internet claiming that World War Three has already started, countries fighting in secret during undisclosed battles across the globe. Small skirmishes to test new weapons before it breaks out into full-scale warfare, “That's just a conspiracy.” 

“It’s not, though,” Sehun pipes up, “I have friends in the force, apparently there's secret platoons that actually see battle, instead of just training for it. And when they die, the army says they died during a routine training exercise.” 

“There is literally no proof,” Minseok chides, “Just unfortunate accidents and paranoia.”

“There's a shred of truth to every conspiracy,” Luhan offers sagely, taking a sip from his coffee before continuing, “So I feel it's worth looking into.”

“Our case is regarding the disappearance of Kim Junmyeon, not to uncover government conspiracies,” Minseok says, putting his proverbial foot down on the issue, “If Kim Jongin is some sort of Secret Soldier, then fine. But he's also connected to our suspects, and that's got to be our main angle here.”

Both Luhan and Sehun look away, ashamed or intimidated, Minseok isn't sure. 

“I'm going to assume that Private Kim supplies arms to Red Moon for their weapon deals,” Minseok continues, “New, scary weapons from conspiracies, standard issue rifles or whatever, he seems high up enough that questioning him may yield some answers.”

“Yeah,” Sehun says solemnly. 

“Makes sense,” Luhan shrugs, turning back to his own research. 

Minseok needs those files, needs access to Private Kim’s service records. Details of his service might show which faction of the Syndicate he makes contact with, allowing undercover agents to successfully infiltrate and possibly report back with valuable information about the case, or even a way to close the operation from the inside out. 

There's only one person in the office with enough pull to get Minseok files, and he can only hope that they're willing to help. 

\------ 

“No,” Director Wu is surprisingly adverse to the idea, “Minseok I _can't_.”

“You’ve done it before,” Minseok points out. Director Wu has a military background, and his contacts have proved useful not only to Minseok, but to numerous members of the team over the years, “Why not this time?” 

“Because this is a _classified_ file, Minseok,” He runs a hand through his greying hair, “People could lose their jobs, they could go to jail for releasing this kind of information, even to a government agency.”

“I don't need all the details,” Minseok pushes desperately. It's his first proper lead, he doesn't want it to go cold so soon after finding it, “Just his deployment history, or even the name of his Commanding Officer.”

“I'll see what I can do,” Director Wu concedes, “But if you've got dirt on him, the army will want to punish him accordingly.” 

“I don't care who makes the arrest,” Minseok admits truthfully. He's certain that Kim Jongin plays only a small role in a bigger story, as he would have been a teenager at the time of Dr. Kim’s disappearance, “I just want the information.” 

“I’m not promising anything,” Director Wu says, “But I'll try.”

He's going out on a limb for Minseok, doing something that could potentially end his career. Director Wu all but flew up the ranks after joining the agency, with a reputation as one of their best and brightest from the get go. 

Director Wu is placing a lot of faith in Minseok and his team, and honestly, that's all he could ever ask for.

\------ 

**Sender: iknowyou@youdontknowme.com   
Subject: (no subject)**

_FIND THE SHADOW, TRACE IT TO THE SOURCE_

_EX-0-88 KIM JONGIN_

Minseok’s paranoia kicks into overdrive. There's someone watching his every move. He searches for surveillance in his home and office, but finds nothing. Both Luhan and Sehun find great humour in his actions, but they haven't seen the emails, they know nothing. He keeps them a secret, purely because he doesn't know the intention of his mysterious-- dare he say it-- _informant_. Their names were in the first two emails he received, and mostly, Minseok doesn't want to cause any unnecessary stress or fear.

He ignores the newest email, deleting it without second thought, just as he did with the previous two. 

**Sender: Director Wu Yifan   
Subject: You owe me**

_Military records department couldn't give me much, but they got me Private Kim’s old CO. Honestly, the guy I spoke to was very unprofessional, borderline annoying, and you seriously owe me because you have no idea what I had to do to get this information._

_Anyway, the CO’s name is Do Kyungsoo, and according to the records guy, he's an ‘absolute asshole’ and asked me to pass on the message ‘have fun’, so it looks like you're in for a rough time._

_The interns are finding his address for you as we speak, top priority._

_P.s. Sehun has military friends, right? Please ask if he knows a Kim Jongdae, I have a dire need to get in touch with his superiors regarding his awful conduct. Bastard wouldn't tell me over the phone._

Minseok laughs, the Director's usual calm demeanour has been thrown for a loop after one phone call. He supposes that the newer recruits don't feel the need to offer the same kind of respect and courtesy to non-military personnel. 

“Hey Sehun,” Minseok calls out across the office, remnant traces of laughter still caught in his voice, “You ready for some field work?”

The smile on his face serves as his reply.

\------

Sergeant Do Kyungsoo lives in a nondescript apartment block in a relatively good part of town. It's mostly young families and the elderly who live in the area, people living paycheck to paycheck though not uncomfortably. 

The distance between Kyungsoo’s apartment and the closest military base is ridiculous, a morning commute would take almost an hour-- possibly more-- leading Minseok to believe that he's retired.

It's both a good and a bad thing; having retired, the former Sergeant _technically_ falls under Minseok’s jurisdiction for questioning, meaning that he's not going to find angry army officials on his doorstep anytime soon. But it also means he may not _want_ to talk about his former life in the military, having already left it behind. 

Considering the warning Director Wu received from the cheeky Records Officer, Minseok is bracing himself for the latter.

“Sergeant Do Kyungsoo?” Luhan raps his knuckles against the wooden door, the three of them having decided previously that Luhan’s demeanour is the least threatening of them all, and therefore would be in charge of the questioning. Minseok’s main job is to make sure Sehun doesn't knock anything over in excitement. 

“ ‘the fuck you want?” Someone grumbles from the apartment's interior, presumably the Sergeant, “I'm out of the force, no one calls me Sarge anymore.” 

He continues to mutter quietly to himself, voice obscured by the sound of multiple locks clicking open. 

“What,” Do Kyungsoo, for all his muttering and grumbling, as well as his former military rank, is surprisingly young. And he's not just young _looking_ , either, Minseok can tell. His appearance is shockingly youthful, thirty years old at most, and only slightly taller than Minseok himself.

“I'm Special Agent Lu, they’re Special Agents Kim and Oh,” Luhan introduces them to the Sergeant, as per protocol, “We're from the NIS.”

Sergeant Do’s lips curve into a disapproving frown, eyebrows furrowed as he glares at the agents. He doesn't make a move to close his door, however. Luhan takes it as his cue to continue.

“We have a few questions about Kim Jongin,” Luhan says calmly, tone neutral and non-threatening. Minseok can already tell that having him in charge of the questioning was the correct choice, “We have reason to believe he was under your command at some point.” 

“Everyone has questions about Kim Jongin,” Kyungsoo says, voice monotone, “The kid was a real mystery.” 

“Was?” Luhan prompts.

“He’s dead,” Sergeant Do seems completely unbothered by this fact, as if it's old news, or if he didn't particularly care for the young Private, “Has been for a while.” 

“Are you sure about that?” Luhan asks, casting a sideways glance in Minseok’s direction. According to their colleagues working on the Red Moon case, the mysterious Kim Jongin was recently spotted in Northern China, along the Russian/Chinese border, “We have reason to believe that he's still alive.”

“I watched him die,” Sergeant Do affirms, “I buried his goddamn body.” 

“What happened to him?” Sehun speaks up for the first time, and Minseok belatedly realises why; The Sergeant didn't mention a funeral, only a burial. Usually, a deceased soldier's body is sent home, if Private Kim was buried during service, it means he was somewhere he wasn't supposed to be, “If we're not at war, how was Private Kim killed in action?”

“Training accident,” Sergeant Do grunts, attempting to close his door. Minseok, in a moment of quick thinking, jams his foot into the crack. 

“Does ‘The Shadow’ mean anything to you?” Minseok tries, remembering the cryptic email. He winces, the door is heavy, all but crushing his foot.

“No,” The Sergeant says after a suspiciously long pause, “No it doesn't.” 

Pulling his foot free just in time, the door slams closed with alarming force. Had he still been in the way, Minseok is sure he'd be sporting broken bones.

“Well,” Luhan mutters, staring at the closed door like it could reveal the secrets that Sergeant Do did not, “He was charming.” 

Minseok nods distractedly. The door doesn't seem as heavy as it felt, pressing against his foot. It’s a standard wooden door, nothing too spectacular about that. 

But the way it slammed closed, the way the whole wall seemed to shake from the impact, that's not what one would expect from something so ordinary.

Especially Sergeant Do Kyungsoo, who closed the monumental door with just the tips of his fingers.

\------

**Sender: iknowyou@youdontknowme.com   
Subject: (no subject)**

_HAVE YOU SEEN ANTMAN? I'VE HEARD IT'S QUITE A GOOD FILM._

_EX-0-12 DO KYUNGSOO_

Ignore, delete. 

Minseok’s off duty, he can save his speculation for tomorrow, spend his working hours wondering just how Sergeant Do fits into the puzzle, but for now, he's got a box of pizza to worry about, especially considering the rate at which Luhan is devouring the slices.

It’s a rare night off, his first in a while. Since Luhan’s return to the agency, he hasn't eaten a meal at home, not once. For the most part, Luhan, Minseok and now Sehun, they all stay in the office well into the night, eating from vending machines and occasionally sending Sehun out for Chinese food.

Minseok and Luhan sit in their lounge room, and for the first time, they talk about anything and everything that isn't work; the topics are mindless, everyday conversations like normal friends. 

Luhan is a messy eater, sauce smeared along his upper lip and grease staining his fingers. He's still gorgeous, at least in Minseok’s eyes, and the domesticity of the situation has Minseok yearning for more. 

“C’mere,” Minseok laughs. Armed with a napkin he wipes the mess of sauce slowly accumulating on Luhan’s face. He feels like the protagonist in a drama; cheesy and romantic and so unlike himself, but Luhan’s very presence is enough to ignite the kind of overprotective, affectionate attitude of drama leads within Minseok. 

He's embarrassed at how tender, how smitten his actions are. But Luhan offers him the kind of smile that Minseok wants to kiss, and suddenly, he finds he doesn't care quite as much.

\------

_iv. EX-0- 04_

The dead lead that was Do Kyungsoo causes a damaging stall to the case. Further attempts at interrogation reveal that the Sergeant moved out of his apartment not long after their visit, his current whereabouts unknown. 

Director Wu formally gives their team a name-- _The Advisory Research Division_ , a separate team that works closely with both the Missing Persons Unit and the Organized Crime Department. After time, they simply become known as The Dot Connectors, people to come to for advice on a case, fresh eyes with a fresh angle of investigation. 

Sehun is finally off the intern floor and making a name for himself. Minseok walks through throngs of new agents, flanked by Luhan and Sehun, smiling to himself as they whisper about ‘Special Agent Oh’ and how ‘I've heard he's our version of Sherlock Holmes’ as well as Minseok’s own achievements, and the pure enigma that is Luhan.

He's proud of his team, even if their first case was a complete failure. There are just some mysteries that aren't meant to be solved, and if Luhan isn't bothered by his past, then Minseok isn't either. 

Kim Junmyeon’s family have already buried him, an empty casket lying beneath his grave. They're at peace with knowing that their son will never come back, and Minseok lets the details of his case slip from his mind. 

The mysterious emails stop.

\------

“I've been doing my own research,” Sehun announces one day, turning his laptop screen around to face Minseok. They're still in their tiny dungeon office, but it's purely for nostalgic purposes. Also because Sehun and Luhan have grown accustomed to Minseok’s blatant abuse of the air-conditioning system, “Take a look at this.” 

The website is neon orange, with white text. Awfully designed, it gives Minseok a headache at just a glance.

Highlighting the text so that Minseok can read it, Sehun sits back wordlessly, waiting for Minseok to respond.

**THE SHADOW**

_I know this guy’s real name, but I value my life, so I won't reveal it >8D_

_Honestly, we had many names for The Shadow; The Winter Soldier, The Zombie. He was always a new recruit, never remembered any of us, never said anything but his name._

_I've seen him die. More than once. By about the third time you learn to ignore it, The Shadow and his apparent inability to die, it's just another one of those things about being a Project Member that you just don't question._

_I think the thing that haunts me the most is watching The Shadow kill himself. Not like, suicide or anything, but actually stand off against an enemy that looks identical to him in every way._

_It was crazy. I’m still not sure if it's what I saw, or if it was just some sort of trauma from battle, but I swear it happened._

_Every platoon on every side has a Shadow. And we don't know why._

“Not this shit again,” Minseok groans, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“You were the one who asked Do Kyungsoo about The Shadow,” Luhan points out, skimming over the article as it's presented to him, “I would have shown you this, too.”

“Where did you get that, anyway?” Sehun inquires suspiciously, “I had no idea what you meant until I read the article, and it all kinda fell into place.” 

“Red Moon transcripts,” Minseok mutters. He doesn't mention the emails.

Sehun squints at Minseok suspiciously. He misses the days where Sehun would obey him without question, the long exposure to Luhan changing his attitude almost drastically.

“I've already tracked down the owner of the site,” Sehun says after a moment, letting the comment drop, “And this is the good part.”

“Get to it,” Luhan mumbles, rubbing at his eyes to ease the strain caused by the website’s obnoxious colouring.

“Corporal Byun Baekhyun, though military should be obvious by this point, ” Sehun supplies, “But I found out that he served with both Do Kyungsoo _and_ Kim Jongin.”

“Where'd you get this information?” Luhan asks curiously, “Isn't military stuff supposed to be secret?” 

“Director Wu gave me the authority to call the Military Records Department,” Sehun shrugs, “Said he didn’t want to deal with Kim Jongdae again.”

Minseok laughs. The director is still on a manhunt for his supervisor, yielding no results. 

“You got Byun’s address?” He asks. Sehun produces a slip of paper from the pocket of his jacket, waving it enthusiastically. 

“My man,” Luhan exclaims, offering Sehun a high five.

“I think it's time to pay him a visit,” Minseok begins, “Don't you think?” 

If either Sehun or Luhan are surprised by his sudden change in attitude, they don't question it. 

Considering Jongin’s prevalence in the case, Minseok is sure that the mysterious Private is directly linked to Dr. Kim’s whereabouts. He's a pivotal point in their search, and finding him will surely yield more answers than previous leads.

The search for Kim Junmyeon resumes.

_Find the shadow, trace it to the source._

\----- 

Byun Baekhyun answers the door wearing a pair of the most gaudy sunglasses Minseok has ever seen. He's dressed somewhat normally, but the round, tacky frames he wears take up nearly the entirety of his face. 

“Come in,” He says, holding the door open. He's not nearly as secretive as his former Commanding Officer. In fact, the way he acts is almost as if he was expecting them, “We've got a lot to talk about.”

The interior of the house is normal. Everything is normal. It's suspiciously absent of suspicious objects, to the point where Minseok is wary. Usually, people try and excuse the dishes in the sink, or the pile of laundry waiting to be folded. But Baekhyun’s house looks picturesque-- not even a pair of shoes lying innocently in the doorway.

“Let me guess,” He says, taking in their suits and polished shoes, “NIS?” 

“Special Agents Lu, Kim and Oh,” Luhan falls into his old role seamlessly, “And you're Corporal Byun Baekhyun.” 

“The one and only,” He says with a bright smile, “Or well, as far as I'm aware.” 

“We’re here about--” 

“The website, yeah I know,” Baekhyun says offhandedly, “I made it so you could find me.” 

“Why not just find us?” Minseok hides his surprise behind a veil of professionalism, “Why go to all this effort?” 

“Because I'm being watched,” He shrugs, “And because it's helped me find some of the others, too.” 

“Others?” Sehun enquires.

“Kim Jongin isn't the only freak,” Baekhyun says, “There's a few us in the EX Project.” 

Minseok exchanges a glance with Luhan. Sehun sits forward in his seat, eagerly hanging on the former Corporal’s every word.

“We were a team of elite soldiers, the best of the best,” Baekhyun continues. His tacky glasses slip forward just slightly, and he hastily pushes them back up his nose, “They sent us out to random places, gave us random vaguely scary groups as targets and let us do our thing.”

“Who were you fighting?” Luhan asks, trying to maintain his composure but failing miserably. This is it, proof of the Secret War. It holds something of importance, this Minseok is now undeniably sure. It keeps turning up in his research, small threads linking Doctor Kim to the mysterious project beginning to form a little thicker. He’s curious too, but he hides it far better than his teammates.

“They’d tell us random names, almost like they drew a random adversary out of a hat and told us to kill,” Baekhyun says, the sunglasses on his face shield most of his expressions, staring ahead almost blankly, “We fought ISIS in Mongolia, once.”

“What would a Syrian terrorist group want in Mongolia?” Minseok muses. 

“It wasn't ISIS,” Baekhyun shrugs, “And I can bet that the Russians we fought weren't Russian, and the North Koreans weren't North Koreans.” 

“Then who _were_ you fighting?” Minseok asks, already dreading the answer.

“Probably ourselves,” Baekhyun says what Minseok had feared, “Everything was set up like a war game, a practice between platoons. Only the bullets were real.” 

“I'm a sniper,” Baekhyun continues after a pause, “A real crack shot.”

Pulling his glasses off, he reveals his face; his eyes are bloodshot, pupils dilated and irises so discoloured they look almost yellow. 

“I used to need glasses, so the military gave me free laser eye surgery,” Baekhyun gestures to his deformed eyes, “They're not pretty, but they work. A little too well, if I'm honest with you.” 

“What do you mean?” Sehun asks, though the answer is glaringly obvious. 

“I can see a target from a kilometre away without using the scope,” Baekhyun whispers, rubbing at his eyes in irritation, “And when you’ve got eyes like this, you see some shit.” 

“Human experiments,” Luhan breathes. Minseok represses the urge to hold his hand, run his thumb across Luhan’s knuckles to soothe his worry.

“I watched a tiny man lift a tank above his head, and throw it at the enemy,” With sudden clarity, Minseok remembers Do Kyungsoo; his short stature, the force with which he closed the door, the cryptic email about Antman. It all makes sense. Do Kyungsoo is small, but he can lift something that’s one thousand times his weight, “I watched someone set himself on fire for the fun of it, the flames never harming him. I watched someone reattach his goddamn _leg_ after it was blown off.”

Baekhyun pauses, looking Minseok straight in the eyes, “I remember every face of every person I've ever killed, and I swear to God I've killed the same people twice.” 

“Kim Jongin,” Luhan begins.

“I've stabbed that fucker in the neck, only to meet him a few months later as the newbie in my platoon. I've had him on my team, and watched him kill someone who looks exactly like himself on the other side,” Baekhyun laughs, as if laughter is the only reaction he can fathom at this point, “He's not some mystery, he's a monster.”

Silence, tense and heavy.

“We all are,” Baekhyun whispers, “We're like a science project, an experiment to make the perfect soldier.” 

“Is there going to be a war?” Sehun asks, his question coming out of nowhere. 

“I’m not sure,” Baekhyun responds slowly, “If there is, they didn't tell us.” 

“How many of you are there?” Luhan says quietly, “How many experiments?” 

“Again, I'm not sure,” Baekhyun pulls down his shirt, revealing the number 04 inked on his chest, right above his heart. From the corner of his eye, Minseok watches the way both Sehun and Luhan’s hands flinch, as if they were about to move their hands, but caught themselves at the last second, “Apparently I'm number four, but I've met someone that's number eighty-eight.” 

“That's a lot of people,” Luhan frowns. 

“We never spoke with anyone directly, we got missions emailed to us,” Baekhyun laughs again, “But apparently there's only ten of us, and I’ve met half of them.” 

“So there's five people from the EX Project that _weren't_ part of the testing,” Minseok is thinking aloud at this point, trying to digest the overload of information. 

“I don't know if they were failed tests or what, but yeah. I've never met them,” Baekhyun says, “Which sucks, because one of them was apparently the leader of the whole operation.” 

“The leader?” Minseok echoes, “Wasn't Do Kyungsoo the Commanding Officer?” 

“He was the CO because the CO wasn't around,” Baekhyun shrugs, “Every time shit got too hard, he'd be on his headset cursing the missing dudes to hell and back.” 

“Where the fuck is ninety-nine,” Baekhyun imitates Kyungsoo’s voice, but poorly, “What kind of leader abandons his fucking troops.”

“Do you know the other numbers?” Sehun asks, “There's five members of the project who are unaccounted for.”

“I only know ninety-nine, sorry,” Baekhyun says sheepishly, “I wasn't high enough in the ranks to find out anything else.” 

“Do you know where any of your teammates are?” Minseok tries, one last attempt to get some information out of Baekhyun.

“No. But they're safe,” Baekhyun replies cryptically, not giving a straight answer for the first time since their arrival, “And I'll probably join them, soon.” 

“What makes you think that?” Sehun asks. 

“Someone’s coming. About five kilometres in that direction,” Baekhyun tilts his head towards the kitchen window, “I'm not sure if they're friendly.” 

“We’ll help,” Sehun says, gripping his hand around the holster of his gun, a standard issue CZ 75B, a weapon that has only seen use at the gun range but never on the field. “We can protect you.” 

“You should protect yourselves,” Baekhyun says, eyes never leaving the window, “I've been responsible for a lot of deaths, but I'm not about to be responsible for yours.” 

“Not gonna happen,” Minseok scoffs. Sehun’s gun may not have been fired outside a training room but his _has_. He’s been in enough situations, enough stand offs to know how to protect himself.

“I may not have Kyungsoo’s strength,” Baekhyun says, confirming Minseok’s suspicions. Do Kyungsoo is the Antman, the super strong, super soldier from Baekhyun’s earlier tale, “But it will hurt if I punch you.” 

“We're not prepared for a fight, Minseok,” Luhan urges. They’ve got backup ammo but nothing substantial. His willingness to flee makes sense, they’re more likely to be a hindrance rather than a help at this point, “Let’s just go.” 

“I’m the best sniper in the fucking world. I have a roof and I have a Springfield M1A already loaded,” He stands up, slipping his sunglasses over his eyes once more, “It'll take a goddamn army to take me out.” 

“Update your website if you make it out alright,” Minseok urges, he wants one sign to ease his conscious, “Can you do that for me?” 

“Yes sir,” Baekhyun offers him a salute. It's not mocking, but a proper sign of respect, “Call Sign EX-04 reporting for active combat.” 

“Good luck, soldier,” Minseok says. Baekhyun nods in affirmation. 

Luhan all but drags Minseok from the house, Sehun hot on their tails. 

The first gunshot rings out as Minseok turns from Baekhyun’s street, hands gripped tight on the steering wheel. 

He doesn't look back. 

\------ 

Warm showers melt away the stress from long days, but Minseok finds that hot water feels like it's melting his skin instead. 

So his showers are cold, almost icy. They have the same effect, the chill seeping into his bones is almost soothing.

_EX-0-07 LU HAN  
EX-0-94 OH SEHUN_

The two members of his team had a kneejerk reaction to the EX Project call signs, reacting to Baekhyun’s tattoo like they wanted to touch their own. 

Luhan was a human experiment, that much he knows for sure. But Sehun, what is Sehun’s role in the grand scheme of things? He's too young to be former military, and he doesn't have any of the memory loss like Luhan has. 

Towelling himself dry, Minseok regards himself in the mirror; he looks younger than he should, thirty-four years of age and not a wrinkle. He looks tired, though. Always tired. Luhan’s dog tags still hang from his neck; they remain cold, holding on to the chill from his shower and pressing into his skin. 

They’re more comfortable than they used to be, not so much of a burden, but more of a hidden sign of his affections. He polishes the surface with a sigh.

Minseok sleeps for around three hours a week, exhaustion hitting him like a wave, but retreating just as fast. He's been like this for as long as he can remember. 

Sehun doesn't have memory loss, but Minseok does. 

He woke up from a coma, a John Doe transferred into a public hospital from an unnamed, private institution. Aged twenty, Minseok knew only his name and his burning desire to join the NIS.

Minseok pulls his shirt over his head, keeping eye contact with his reflection all the while. 

He doesn't allow his eyes to stray. 

He doesn't want to see the number 99 tattooed almost innocently on his chest.

\------

 _v. EX-0-61_

“You’ve got mail!” Luhan chirps as Minseok exits the bathroom, “From someone you don't know, apparently.” 

Minseok freezes. The emails, they've started again.

**Sender: iknowyou@youdontknowme.com   
Subject: (no subject)**

_YOU FOUND HIM WITHOUT MY HELP. MY, MY, AREN'T YOU CLEVER?_

_EX-0-04 BYUN BAEKHYUN_

_YOUR NEXT ASSIGNMENT, SHOULD YOU CHOOSE TO ACCEPT IT:_

_EX-0-61 PARK CHANYEOL_

Wordlessly, he hands his phone to Luhan, who reads the email with a shocked expression. 

“I got one for you,” Minseok starts, “EX-0-07.” 

“Fuck,” Luhan whispers in disbelief, “Fuck.”

“I got one for Kim Jongin, Do Kyungsoo and for Baekhyun as well,” Minseok says, “They're eighty-eight, twenty-one and zero four, respectively.” 

Luhan remains silent,

“Sehun is EX-0-94,” Minseok whispers, “He was the second email.” 

“And you didn't think to tell us?” Luhan cries, pacing around the room restlessly, “I mean, you've always been secretive, but don't you think we deserved to know?” 

“I thought they were threats at first,” Minseok scrambles, “Someone watching us and using those emails as an intimidation tactic.” 

“I mean, I knew I was an experiment,” Luhan says, pulling his shirt up to reveal the scars on his chest, Y shaped and puckered, “Someone decided to cut me open and watch my fucking heartbeat.” 

For the first time, Luhan seems scared, angry. He's not so nonchalant about his past, he's terrified of it. Of the people that did this to him. 

“But I never knew I was supposed to be a weapon,” He sinks to the floor, cradling his head in his hands, “I'm not a soldier, Minseok. They didn't turn me into a fighter.”

“What did they do to you?” Minseok prompts gently, coming to rest in front of Luhan and placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“I can _read minds_ ,” He whispers, “Or rather, I can sense what people are going to, or what they want to do, before they do it.”

The experiments on Luhan have heightened his perception, changed the way his brain interprets body language. It all makes sense; Luhan is able to psychologically analyse a person at a glance, it's impossible to lie to him. He's not a soldier, Minseok realises, but the ultimate interrogator, the perfect tactician. Super strength, incredible marksmanship; Minseok doesn’t know what Kim Jongin’s abilities are, but he’s seeing a pattern. 

Whoever created them, they weren’t just creating individual weapons, they were creating a _team_. A platoon of men designed for one purpose and one purpose only, a well-oiled war machine.

“I know when you're going to ask Sehun to go on a coffee run, I know when Sehun is on Facebook instead of doing his work. I know when Director Wu is thinking about asking Special Agent Zhang on a date.” Luhan continues, looking up at Minseok with those wide, imploring eyes, reading his reaction.

Minseok blanches in shock, if his mind has been an open book the whole time, he wonders exactly how much Luhan knows about him, his feelings.

“I know you're scared right now,” Luhan continues, biting at his lip, “I know you're wondering if I've noticed, all those times you wanted to kiss me.”

Luhan smiles wryly, “I have, you know. And I've counted. A year and a half of longing glances, Minseok. I've counted them all.” 

“How many times?” Minseok asks, unsure if he wants to know the answer. It’s probably an embarrassing amount of times, all things considered.

“Over the past eighteen months, you’ve wanted to kiss me one thousand, one hundred and ninety-six times, Kim Minseok,” Luhan says, “That’s a little over twice a day.” 

“Sorry,” He replies sheepishly, subtly surprised the count wasn’t a little higher, “I can't help it.”

“One thousand, one hundred and ninety-seven,” Luhan whispers, and it's only then that Minseok realises his gaze is set on Luhan’s lips, the way they shape and form the number of times that Minseok has wanted to kiss them, “Over a thousand thoughts and not one action.” 

“Do you want me to kiss you?” Minseok asks, lowering his head, watching as Luhan’s eyelids flutter closed. 

“Yes,” Luhan breathes, raising a hand to thread through Minseok’s hair, “This time, the other thousand times, every single day at the academy; my answer is yes.” 

Minseok’s wasted enough time, lost too many moments. 

He kisses Luhan, the way he's wanted to for years.

\------

Minseok braces himself for conflict, he's kept Sehun’s identity a secret for far too long, if it were him, he'd be angry, storm out of the room. He sits Sehun down, gently explains the situation, braces himself for the fallout--

“I know,” Sehun says with a shrug, “I agreed to it.” 

“I'm sorry, _what_?” Minseok stammers in disbelief, “You've known this whole time?” 

“About my abilities?” Sehun tilts his head to the side in confusion, “Of course.” 

“You remember the experiments?” Luhan asks, sharing a look with Minseok, “You remember what they did to you?” 

“It’s foggy, I was pretty doped up on pain meds,” Sehun starts, entirely too casual, “But I remember enough.” 

“And you didn't think to mention it?” Minseok asks, anger bubbling to the surface. He knows he's being hypocritical, but Sehun held valuable knowledge and intentionally withheld it. That's not something Minseok can take lightly. 

“If I walked in here on my first day, telling you I've been genetically modified to absorb oxygen through my skin, would you have believed me?” Sehun scoffs, “Not likely.” 

“Why,” Luhan asks. It's an all encompassing question; why did Sehun agree to the testing, why does he have that ability, why does he remember, while Luhan does not?

“I failed my first attempt at the academy's entrance exam,” Sehun starts, chewing at his fingernails, a nervous habit, “I had really bad asthma, still do.” 

“So someone approached you, asked if you wanted some sort of experimental procedure?” Minseok fills in the blanks for him.

“Bingo,” Sehun replies, making finger guns and pointing them at Minseok, “Get rid of my asthma and get a free ride into the academy? It was too good to be true.” 

“And was it?” Luhan asks, “Was it too good to be true?” 

“Better,” Sehun replies, “Whatever they did made me stronger, smarter. I can breathe underwater, I'm pretty sure if I set myself on fire I'd suck the oxygen right from the flames.” 

“Please don't set yourself on fire,” Luhan mutters, looking quite faint.

“I won't,” Sehun promises, “But yeah, I spent most of my recovery time in a tank, breathing through my skin. That’s the only thing I really remember.” 

“I remember that too,” Luhan says, rubbing at his head as if in pain, “Why do I remember that?” 

“Maybe you saw me,” Sehun states plainly, “Maybe we were in the same facility?” 

“Do you have the number?” Luhan asks desperately, Minseok watches the exchange with concern. He wants to take Luhan in his arms and kiss the pain and uncertainty away. He doesn't care that Luhan is probably aware of his intentions, “A number like Byun’s, do you have one?” 

“Call sign EX-94 reporting for active combat,” Sehun recites, unbuttoning his shirt and revealing the numbers inked over his heart, “Isn't that what Baekhyun said?” 

“Call sign EX-07,” Luhan replies weakly, showing his own mark, the tattoo distorted from the scars on his chest, but still identifiable, “And I think active combat means we're about to kill people.” 

“I’m about to kill you both, honestly,” Minseok says with a scowl, the atmosphere was too tense for a moment, uncomfortable and far too dramatic for 8am on a Monday, “Don't scare me like that.” 

“Anyway,” Minseok continues, allowing a brief pause before speaking again, “Our next project member is Park Chanyeol.” 

“No way,” Sehun breathes, “If this is who I think it is, then _holy shit_.” 

“You got us a lead, Soldier?” Luhan replies, offering a mocking salute. 

“Look, no one ever told me I'd be a super soldier, alright?” Sehun grumbles, he takes Minseok’s car keys from the desk, ignoring his superior’s cries of protest, “And I'm driving.” 

“No, you're not,” Minseok replies, snatching the keys away from a pouting Sehun, “We're not going anywhere until Director Wu receives his monthly report.” 

Sehun and Luhan let out matching groans. 

“Less groaning, more writing,” Minseok says, settling down behind his own desk, “The sooner we finish, the sooner we find Park.” 

It’s a difficult report to write. Proof of human experimentation in the military, extending out to civilian and government agencies if Luhan and Sehun are anything to go by. They're big accusations, and if the public found out there'd be widespread outcry. 

They've learnt a lot, yet so little at the same time; how do Kim Junmyeon and the Red Moon Syndicate tie into military experiments, and what is the EX Project’s true purpose? 

Hopefully Park Chanyeol holds some, if not all of the answers.

\------

 

**Sender: Director Wu   
Subject: I hate you **

_  
You've dropped some dangerous shit on my desk, Minseok, and the only reason I'm emailing you is because I’m very tempted to punch you AND your teammates right in your perfect teeth._

_If anyone asks then you're researching former military personnel who are suspected of selling arms to criminal organisations._

_You're walking a very dangerous path, so tread carefully, encrypt your files, destroy the paper train and for God's sake TRUST NO ONE._

_And when you get caught, don't implicate me, alright? I want to retire with a pension, not a prison sentence._

_Jesus Christ._

\------

“He’s a _high school student_ ,” Minseok asks in disbelief, staring at the building Sehun has parked in front of. It’s a local high school, dull and grey, uniformed students bustling around the courtyard, “You've got to be kidding me.”

“What, of course not,” Sehun says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, “He's a teacher.”

“A teacher,” Minseok deadpans, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“My old Chemistry teacher was ex-military. He had this cool trick where he’d dip his hand in water, then set it on fire using the Bunsen Burner,” Sehun shrugs. It sounds just like one of Baekhyun’s stories, a man impervious to flame who would set himself alight for the pure fun of it, “And his name was Park Chanyeol.”

“That sounds like our guy.” Luhan says, Minseok hums in agreement. 

A nervous looking principal greets them at the front of the school, leading the agents through one of the service corridors along the side of the building. 

“So the students don't notice your presence,” The man, having identified himself as Principal Hong, stutters as they make their way into the school. He seems terrified of the agents, almost too fickle and meek to actively control a group of teenagers. 

Two of which take to following the agents as they walk through the hall, twin glares on their faces that Minseok spots each time he turns around. 

“Jongin, Zitao, please respect our guests,” Principal Hong chides, noticing their young assailants. 

“Jongin?” Luhan moves to whip his head around, but Minseok curls a hand around his bicep, halting the movement. Minseok nods gently, small enough for Luhan to notice, and no one else. 

The boy behind him is thinner, far more awkward and adolescent than his military ID photo, but it's undoubtedly Kim Jongin. Minseok is willing to bet that the as equally silent, equally as terrifying boy to his left also holds an EX call sign. 

Park Chanyeol looks like a mad scientist crossed with every high school girl’s personal teacher fantasy; wild hair and boyish good looks, he greets them with a warm smile.

“Boys, wait outside, will you?” He says to Jongin and Zitao. They frown, but obey none the less, wordlessly waiting outside the door as it closes. 

“Long time no see, teach,” Sehun greets Chanyeol with a firm handshake, “I'm nearly taller than you now.” 

“Tall and an NIS Agent,” Chanyeol chuckles in wonder, “Who would have thought?” 

“Mr. Park arrived here during my final year of school,” Sehun explains, “He was my chemistry teacher.” 

“I'm sure you're not here to reminisce on your grades,” Chanyeol replies, “So tell me, what can I do for you?” 

“Does call sign EX-61 mean anything to you?” Minseok asks, straight to the point. 

“Well yeah, it was my old call sign from the army,” Chanyeol replies, puzzled. He fiddles with the knob for the Bunsen Burner on his desk, the flame flickers to life. He turns the knob so it burns at the highest setting, and leaves the apparatus running. If he is who they think he is, it’s a defensive move, something to fall back on if things turn ugly, “I don't see what that's got to do with anything?” 

“Why does the operative, formerly known as The Shadow, attend your school?” Luhan asks with narrowed eyes. 

“Who?” Chanyeol’s smile doesn't leave his face, but Minseok doesn't need Luhan’s powers to see that he's playing dumb, politely evasive. His eyes flicker towards the flame. 

“Kim Jongin,” Sehun supplies, gesturing towards the door. 

“Call sign EX-88,” Minseok adds, bombarding him. He'll crack eventually, tell them everything he knows.

Chanyeol’s eyes narrow, regarding each agent in turn. 

“And what do you know about Call Sign EX-04,” Minseok finally adds. He's under the assumption that Baekhyun knew everyone he served with, his personality warm and inviting, he'd make friends even in the midst of mysterious testing and secret wars. 

“Baekhyun,” Chanyeol whispers, confirming Minseok’s suspicions, “You've been speaking to Baekhyun.” 

Solemn, sombre silence; 

“So _that's_ why his website now redirects to the Bee Gee’s ‘Staying Alive’ on YouTube,” Chanyeol breaks the silence with a laugh, “He's trying to tell you that he's okay.” 

“Oh thank God,” Luhan breathes, clearly relieved. Baekhyun’s fate has been at the back of all their minds since they left him, and confirmation that he's alive offers comfort.

“Apparently you've met our darling CO as well?” Chanyeol all but swoons, “Is he still cute? Is Baekhyun still cute? I haven't seen them in years.”

“Uh, sure.” Minseok replies. This is not the way he'd envisioned their questioning, he walked through that door expecting resistance, secrecy, not discussions on the appearance of Chanyeol’s former platoon members.

“Call Sign EX-61, at your service,” Chanyeol sweeps into a theatrical bow, grinning widely as he raises to full height once more, “What can I do for you?” 

“Tell us everything you know,” Luhan says, jaw setting in determination. 

Apparently, Chanyeol knows far more than Baekhyun, things mostly figured out through the power of deduction, alone. It’s all speculation, but his theories make sense; 

The EX project underwent field testing, recorded skirmishes as proof of their abilities. Chanyeol believes that the scientific methods used to create them are to be auctioned off to the highest paying nation.

“Or they'll sell our clones,” Chanyeol shrugs, “I picked up on that pretty quickly.” 

“That they were cloning you?” Luhan asks, “How did you figure that one out?”

“I once fought four Jongins at once,” He says, “Two plus two equals four.” 

“Do you know anything about the missing call signs?” Sehun asks, evidently curious about his own role within the group, “Apparently only half of you served in the field testing.”

“EX-99 was the leader, or so they say. No idea what happened to him,” Chanyeol supplies, Minseok schools his expression into one of indifference. He doesn't move doesn't fidget. He hopes Luhan is so focused on Chanyeol that he doesn't pick up on Minseok’s discomfort, “That was in my first email mission.”

“EX-21, the brains, he ran away. EX-07, the tactician, was incomplete and EX 94, our recon dude, well, he hadn't even been started by that point.”

“There’s one more,” Sehun counts on his fingers, “Who else is there?” 

“Our medic, EX-10 was testing without us,” Chanyeol says, “And doing very well for himself, if the emails he sent were anything to go by.” 

“Call Sign EX-07,” Luhan says. It’s not a question, he's identifying himself, clutching at his shirt where the tattoo lay on his chest, “I guess I'm complete, now.” 

“Holy shit!” Chanyeol cheers, pulling Luhan into a hug, “I'm finally meeting our Tactician!” 

“Call Sign EX-94,” Sehun speaks up, “Also complete.” 

“My old favourite student is our recon guy?” Chanyeol loops one of his arms around Sehun’s neck, pulling him into the hug as well, “I'm so happy, we gotta let the others know!”

“Where are they?” Minseok asks, “Where are the others.” 

“Safe,” Chanyeol says, voice going quiet, “And depending if the Zitao and Jongin clones standing outside are friends or foe, I could be joining them shortly.” 

“How do you know they're clones?” Sehun whispers, matching the mood of the situation, “What gave it away?” 

“They’re teenagers,” Chanyeol deadpans, “Plus, Zitao hasn't complained about my hair. They're basic model clones, made to obey orders and nothing else.”

“Sir,” The clones burst through the door, “We have to get you to a safe place.” 

“Friends,” Chanyeol breathes a sigh of relief, “Thank God.” 

“What are you talking about?” Minseok asks, scoffing, “We're completely--” 

And then he notices, the silence the absence of students chattering, no noise whatsoever echoing within the school halls.

“They’ve evacuated the school,” The Zitao clone says, “We need to get you out, _now_.” 

“Take EX-94 and EX-07 with you,” Chanyeol barks, stance changing. Gone is the goofy high school teacher, he falls back into his role as EX-61 almost seamlessly, the soldier mindset only lying dormant. It's clear that Chanyeol is as much of a leader to the EX Project as Kyungsoo, the clones, and even Minseok’s partners, obeying him without command, “And I never got your name, sorry.” 

“Kim Minseok,” He supplies, internally berating himself for not following protocol, for getting distracted during the questioning. 

“Sir!” The clones salute. It shocks Minseok to see their offer of respect aimed at _him_ and not at Chanyeol as he had expected. 

“What-” 

“Commanding Officer of Mission EX-2471, Special Agent Kim Minseok, sir!” The Jongin clone cries, arm still rigid in a salute. 

“Our orders are to protect EX-61 from The Red Moon, and to brief the NIS faction on--” Zitao’s clone is silenced by a gunshot, his body crumples onto the classroom floor, fragments of bone and skin splattering against the linoleum. Sehun yelps as the blood from the clone’s wound seeps toward his shoes, puddle spreading with every shocked filled second. 

“EX-68!” Jongin’s clone yells, the final words from his mouth. Another shot rings through the empty school, Jongin’s body falling towards to the floor, twitching violently before coming to a still.

“Delinquents, honestly,” Principal Hong says, absentmindedly polishing his gun on his sleeve. He inspects his weapon lazily, before aiming it at Chanyeol’s head, “They're always up to no good.”

“You killed your students,” Chanyeol screams, but stays still, eyes flicking between the Bunsen Burner still burning on his desk and the gun in the Principal’s hand, “That's very unprofessional.” 

“Please,” Principal Hong scoffs, kicking at the Jongin clone’s lifeless body, “EX-88 clones are a dime a dozen.”

“Who are you?” Chanyeol seethes, still looking at the flickering blue flame with determination, “You're no teacher.” 

“These two,” He kicks at the bodies again, lips curling in disgust, “Aren't the only EX clones, you know.” 

“You’re--” 

“EX-10, yes.” The clone replies with a roll of his eyes, “Well, one of them.” 

A bullet shatters through the window, embedding itself into the whiteboard, distorting the chemical equations messily scrawled along its surface. 

“And there's another one,” He smirks, gesturing the gun at Chanyeol, “So don't try anything.”

“You’re a medic,” Luhan says, he shoots a look at Minseok. He's stalling, he's sensed that Chanyeol has a plan and he's doing his best to help, “Why are your clones trying to kill the real EX Members?”

“Who cares,” The clone spits, curling his finger around the trigger, “You're--” 

The clone’s body flies backwards into the wall, blood smearing along white paint as he falls limply to the ground. The wound on his forehead is dead centre--- a perfect shot. 

“Baekhyun’s here,” Chanyeol supplies, rushing towards the counter with a grin, “Get out while you can, he'll cover you.” 

“But--” Sehun starts, still shocked by the turn of events. Minseok, too, is having trouble processing everything. From a routine questioning to a pile of bodies, nothing has gone as planned. 

And yet, so many questions have been answered; Kim Junmyeon is not only alive, but part of the EX Project, with the suspicions of The Red Moon Syndicate’s involvement in the case all but confirmed. 

“Remember that trick I used to show you, Sehun?” Chanyeol asks, removing his coat and rolling up the sleeves of his button up, “The one with the Bunsen Burner?”

“Yes,” Sehun looks at his former teacher in bewilderment, “But I don't see-”

“Flame on!” Chanyeol shouts in glee, inserting his arm into the flame. Instead of burning his skin, the fire seems to take to it; within seconds the teacher's body is covered in blue flames, slowly eating away at his clothing. Chanyeol himself seems unharmed, in fact, he seems to revel in the fire, as if the flames were an old friend. 

“Go!” He yells, pointing at the door, a chunk of his shirt falls to the floor, blackened edges curling in on themselves as the fire consumes the fabric, “I've got this.” 

It’s oddly familiar, the way Luhan drags him away from the danger, Sehun trailing behind them as they run. It's like the situation with Baekhyun all over again, but this time, they have no clear way to find out if Chanyeol survives the skirmish. 

Gunshots, and from multiple weapons; Minseok can make out at least three shooters, can smell the telltale tang of smoke in the air. 

There's at least three dead bodies and a damaged school they need to report on, Director Wu won't be happy, but if they notify him first then they can shield the story from the authorities once the flames die. 

They need to act fast, spin a story about Principal Hong trying to save two students from the flames and dying in the attempt. 

They're so close to the truth, Minseok can almost taste it. 

 

\------ 

He’s not normally the type to speed, but on the way back to the agency Minseok has the accelerator almost touching the floor, ignoring the rapidly rising speedometer and keeping his eyes on the road. Sehun screams, trying to tell him to slow down. Luhan, on the other hand, mutters away in Mandarin as Minseok swerves through the traffic. 

He’ll send the speeding fine he’s more than likely to receive on to Director Wu, or even Park Chanyeol. 

“Director’s calling,” Luhan mumbles, one hand gripping at the door and the other fumbling around to answer his phone. He slides to accept, making sure the loudspeaker function has been activated before answering. 

“If you’re calling about the speeding fine,” He screams into the receiver, “You can take that up with Minseok.” 

“Speeding-- what?” The Director sounds puzzled for a moment, voice distorted by the speaker, “You’re not safe.” 

“Minseok is a madman!” Sehun cries from the back seat, “Of course we’re not safe! Please tell him to _slow down_.”

“Your office has been ransacked,” Director Wu replies seriously. Minseok can almost imagine him running his hands worriedly through his hair, “And I think your apartment might be in a similar condition.” 

“What do we do?” Minseok speaks, calmer than his internal panic lets on, “Where do we go?” 

“Agent Zhang has offered his apartment as a safe house,” Director Wu replies calmly. His voice shakes, though; he’s as scared as the rest of them, “I’ll send you the address.” 

It’s not far, and Luhan gives the directions to Yixing’s apartment with a shaking voice and hands. 

\------ 

“Hey,” Yixing looks different at home, gone are his pressed suits and polished shoes; replaced instead by sweatpants and slippers. He still holds the same air, of kindness with an underlying hint of _Don’t Fuck With Me_. Minseok should feel safe, but if anything he’s even more on edge, the reality of the situation catching up to him now that the adrenalin in his system begins to fade. 

He’s escaped not one, but two skirmishes featuring human experiments and an unknown assailant. His office, his home -- his safe spaces-- they’ve been ransacked, searched. He’s onto something big, and someone doesn’t want him to fit the missing pieces of the puzzle together, doesn’t want him to see the big picture. 

“I’ll get you tea,” Yixing smiles tightly, as if sensing the fear, the apprehension from his fellow agents, “There’s seats in the lounge, make sure you rest.” 

Luhan’s leg is shaking almost uncontrollably as he sits, breathing fast and eyes darting around the room in search of danger. Sehun looks in the direction of Yixing’s kitchen, almost thoughtfully. 

Park Chanyeol told them that EX-0-21 is missing, and also the brains of the operation. He has a hunch, and opening his emails, he intends to confirm it. 

**To: iknowyou@youdontknowme.com   
Subject: (no subject)**

_When will I meet you, EX-0-21?_

He presses send before he can regret it, before anyone else sees what he’s doing. The mysterious informant seems to be trustworthy, someone who might be able to help when they’re all feeling so unsafe. Even Yixing, a fellow agent, begins to stir Minseok’s suspicions, his uncharacteristic silence as he makes their tea serving as some sort of warning. Minseok has seen Agent Zhang Yixing chat his way through being shot, having the bullet extracted by a field medic, and then turn up to work the following day. He’s not a quiet person, not at all. 

“Say,” Sehun whispers, motioning for Minseok and Luhan to move closer, “Don’t you think Principal Hong looked like Yixing?” 

The resemblance is subtle, but it’s there; same height, similar features. The principal bore more acne scars, a bit of a pot belly where Yixing’s skin is smooth and muscles are defined. But they certainly do share similar features, a similar smile. From beside him on the sofa, Luhan shivers. 

“Yeah,” Luhan says quietly, “I thought so too.”

“Keep on guard,” Minseok replies, eyes shifting towards the suspiciously quiet kitchen, “And don’t drink the tea.” 

**Sender: iknowyou@youdontknowme.com   
Subject: re: (no subject)**

_SOON. YOU’RE NOT SAFE._

Wordlessly, Minseok shows the emails to Luhan and Sehun; they both wear identical expressions of surprise. 

“So your informant is part of the project?” Sehun whispers, trying not to catch Yixing’s attention. 

“EX-0-21,” Luhan says, “The brains. But isn’t he missing?” 

“Missing from the military,” Minseok supplies, “Just because he never served, doesn’t mean he never existed.”

“Two more,” Luhan replies, “We’ve got two more to find.” 

It’s hard not responding with _one_ , letting Luhan and Sehun know that he too shares the mark of the EX Project. But he’s displayed no signs of ability, nothing abnormal. If anything, it means he’s the _failed_ project, a prototype for the original leader. Minseok keeps his mouth shut. 

“So,” Yixing walks into the lounge, carrying four cups of tea. The liquid splashes over the rim from the awkward hold, slim fingers looping through the handles and tipping the cups on an angle. Luhan shifts uncomfortably, “Wanna tell me what happened?” 

Their attempts at evasive explanation are saved by the bell-- quite literally-- Yixing’s doorbell chimes the second he places the tea on the table in front of them. With an agitated sigh, Yixing goes to answer. Minseok doesn’t miss the handle of the gun protruding from the waistband of Yixing’s pants-- it’s the same one he carries, standard issue. He grips at the holster of his own in retaliation. 

“Yixing,” A voice drawls lazily. From his vantage point, Minseok can make out a young man stepping into the apartment. He doesn’t look like the type of person Yixing would associate with; ripped jeans and dark clothes, a beanie pulled hastily over messy hair, “Long time no see.” 

“Jongdae,” Yixing nods in reply, reaching for the gun in his waistband. Minseok shouts, a warning for the mysterious Jongdae, but the newcomer is quicker; Yixing falls to the floor in a heap, blood pooling from the bullet wound on his forehead. Jongdae calmly steps over the body, making his way into the living room. Luhan and Sehun are on their feet in a second, weapons raised and pointed at in his direction. Jongdae raises a single eyebrow in amusement. 

“It’s a clone, don’t worry,” He says, pocketing his weapon, “The _real_ Yixing is pretty chill.” 

“So he’s--” Luhan starts, staring at the clone in shock. 

“EX-0-10, yeah.” Jongdae shrugs. 

“And you’re---”

“Kim Jongdae, or EX-0-21, at your service,” He offers a two finger salute. The gesture shifts his beanie, and Minseok sees a flash of silver before the fabric is pulled into position once more. “Though I’m not military, so I don’t buy into all this Call Sign bullshit.” 

“Kim Jongdae,” Sehun says deadpan, “You’re the guy from the Military Records.”

“No,” Jongdae replies, waving his hands, “I’m the guy who _hacked_ the military records, and rerouted your call to my personal number any time you guys needed info.” 

“C’mon,” He urges, motioning for them to follow him, “I told you it wasn’t safe.”

“Where are we going?” Sehun asks, but he obediently follows. Luhan entwines his fingers with Minseok’s as they leave, stepping over the clone’s body as it lies in the hallway. 

“My house,” He says simply, “I’ve got some people who are _dying_ to meet you.”

 

\------

Jongdae’s house looks positively derelict, with sections of roof missing, parts of computers and cars littering the front yard. The street is empty, most of the surrounding houses in a similar condition. It seems to be an abandoned housing estate, but the current condition of the roads, the houses, it looks more like the scene from a post-apocalyptic film or video game. 

Luhan’s hold on Minseok’s hand tightens.

“So what’s your deal?” Sehun asks as Jongdae pulls into the driveway. Their car, as agency property, would contain some sort of tracking device, leaving Jongdae’s beat up Toyota as the only option for transport.

“Engineering and Biology double major,” Jongdae replies, pulling the handbrake into position with unnecessary force, “I was doing some theoretical shit when Doctor Kim asked if I wanted it tested.” 

“Kim Junmyeon?” Luhan asks, shocked, “You know him?” 

“Yeah,” Jongdae shrugs, “I was his intern for a while.” 

“How come you weren’t in my notes?” Luhan presses. He’s eager for answers but so is Minseok, so is Sehun, “Why haven’t I heard of you before?” 

“Because not everything Doctor Kim Junmyeon did was public knowledge,” Jongdae replies. He pulls the fabric of the beanie back, just slightly. The glimpse of silver Minseok saw earlier wasn’t just a trick of the light; embedded in Jongdae’s head is some sort of mechanical device. His right hand tightens on the steering wheel. The car is stationary but no one thinks to move; the silence within the car is filled by a faint buzzing, like the whirring of a computer. It resonates from Jongdae. 

“I’m the world’s first cyborg,” He clarifies, pulling his beanie on once more. Now that Minseok looks closer, the skin on Jongdae’s hand looks more plastic, less realistic than the skin on his left, “I designed it, and Junmyeon made it happen.”

“A walking supercomputer,” Sehun breathes, “No wonder you could hack the Military system.”

“No,” Jongdae shoots Sehun a shit eating grin, “The Military Records department just has awful security.” 

“I still have questions--” Minseok starts. Jongdae interrupts him by opening the car door, the old hinges creaking as they move. 

“And we’re still not safe.” Jongdae replies, motioning for them to leave as well. Minseok’s eye catches a glint from the rooftop, subtle movement. Small, almost discreet, anyone untrained wouldn’t have noticed it. Sehun and Luhan miss it, and Jongdae apparently ignores the fact that there’s a sniper on his roof.

“Ignore Baekhyun,” Jongdae says, catching Minseok’s line of sight, his concerned expression, “He’s a bit paranoid.”

“Baekhyun?” Sehun turns on his heel, glancing in all directions but up in an attempt to find him. 

Jongdae gestures to the roof with a lazy wave. 

“So when you said--” Luhan starts. 

“Yeah, they’re all here.” Jongdae has an unfortunate habit of cutting people off when they speak, “Everyone except Junmyeon.” 

“He’s one of us, too?” Sehun babbles excitedly, “Is he EX-0-99?”

“No,” He looks at Minseok with a puzzled expression. Apparently Minseok’s silence wasn’t part of his _Master Plan_ , whatever that may be, “But he did give us our powers, such as they are.”

“This is confusing,” Luhan rubs at his head. Minseok places a hand on the small of his back, guiding him into Jongdae’s house. It’s not the time, nor the place for displays of affection, though the heavy weight of the situation makes Minseok want to take Luhan into his arms, hold him until everything is alright, clear, “Doctor Kim is the bad guy?”

“The road to hell is paved with good intentions,” Jongdae replies cryptically. 

His house is completely empty, filled with nothing but dust and the memories of other people. It would have been a nice family home, once upon a time. Minseok can imagine the kind of White Picket Fence life the former owners must have lead; the overgrown yard filled with a pretty garden bed, maybe a puppy. Family portraits on the wall, meals with proper silverware at the dining table. It’s the kind of house, the kind of life he’s always imagined retiring into; Minseok’s brain unhelpfully supplies the image of Luhan, cooking beside him in the kitchen, kissing him on the staircase before they both leave for work. 

But they’re human experiments, and they’ll receive no such life. The thought causes a tightness in his chest, an unbearable mourning for a life he’s not yet lived. 

“Here,” Jongdae flicks the light switch in the barren kitchen, a mechanical whirring sounds, and the floor folds to the side, revealing a staircase swirling into darkness. Laughter rings out, a boisterous echo of cackles and mirth. It makes the whole situation feel far less sinister, knowing that there’s joy to be found in the darkness below, “After you.” 

Sehun is the first to attempt the stairs, stepping gingerly. His footsteps echo on the metal, and the voices pause at the sound. Luhan follows along after, hand grasping for Minseok’s in the darkness; they’ve kept their relationship, their feelings a secret; it’s not safe, not professional to be involved with a coworker. But they’re not safe, and as far as Minseok’s concerned, he’s no longer working. He’s free to take Luhan’s outstretched hand and follow him into the unknown. 

Jongdae closes the hatch behind them. The creaking of the floor, or is it a roof? as it seals them in feels a lot like finality. 

\------

 _vi. EX-0-99_

They’re greeted with cheers and a bright room. Where the house upstairs is empty, the bunker below is filled with creature comforts and the kind of warmth unexpected from an underground hideaway. 

Minseok spots the other members of the EX Project lounging around on chairs and beanbags, Chanyeol’s long legs draped across Kyungsoo as they lie on the couch. He flicks at a Zippo lighter absentmindedly, watching as the older versions of Jongin and Zitao play some sort of first person shooter on the television. 

Honestly, the scene looks more like a hang out session between college friends than protective custody of a group of genetically modified super soldiers. Somewhere in the corner, Yixing --the _real_ Yixing-- sits and observes the scene with a serene smile on his face. His clone was always kind, but he possessed the kind of aura that suggested otherwise. This Yixing looks nothing but fond; it’s like looking at a stranger. 

“You weren’t followed,” Baekhyun makes his grand entrance, alerting the room to his presence, he takes a seat directly on top of Chanyeol’s legs, wiggling around to find a comfortable position. Through his pain, Chanyeol looks positively overjoyed, “But someone might figure out what happened.” 

“Who was it this time?” Zitao drawls, his voice far deeper than his clones, but still possessing the same air of boredom, “Jongin?” 

“Yixing.” Jongdae says. There’s a complicated computer system along the back wall of the room, he takes what Minseok assumes is his usual position on the office chair in front of it.

“They’ve cloned _me_?” The real Yixing seems shocked by the turn of events, almost guilty, as if he knows what his clones are capable of.

“At least twice,” Sehun says, fitting into the room almost seamlessly. No one questions his appearance, no one blinks as he speaks. Minseok can see now that he’s built for recon, now that he’s found his feet; gone is the bumbling, awkward intern from so long ago. Sehun fits in the room as naturally and as unnoticed as oxygen itself, “You're EX-0-10, right?”

“Yeah.” Yixing nods in affirmation. 

“I knew you looked familiar!” Chanyeol cries, snapping the lighter shut and focusing hard on Yixing’s face, “I mean, the clone I met was ugly, but I can see it.” 

“Thank you?” Yixing replies, confused. Where or when they picked up the original member of the project isn't extrapolated. Considering his unfamiliarity with the rest of the group, it must have been recent. Yixing shifts, and Minseok notices the telltale wince of someone injured, but trying to hide it. Bandages peek out from the collar of his shirt. The clones may have been a poor imitation, but it seems they still retained Yixing’s nature to hide his pain.

“At least _my_ clone wasn’t ugly.” Zitao sniffs, eyes never leaving the game on the screen. He breaks the tension, unknowingly or not. Mild humour to cover the unrest within the room.

“You were _fourteen_.” Chanyeol replies, throwing the lighter at his head. Zitao deflects the projectile with a swat of his hand, reflexes allowing him to keep focused on shooting Jongin’s character repeatedly.

“And I’m currently fifty, what’s your point?” He shrugs, stating his _real_ age like it's not a secret. 

“Rapidly decreased aging process,” Jongdae whispers. Apparently Zitao’s powers really are far from secret, “We’ve all got it, to an extent.” He jerks his thumb in Zitao’s direction, “But that fucker is basically immortal.” 

“Respect your elders!” Zitao cries, acting more like a man in his early twenties rather than someone who has reached middle age.

“Get the newbies up to speed, Ultron,” Baekhyun snickers from the couch, “They're looking _very_ confused.”

“No kidding,” Luhan mutters. Minseok squeezes his hand in response. 

“Pay up,” Baekhyun says to Chanyeol, holding his hand out expectantly, “I told you they’re fucking.” 

“Damn it,” Chanyeol curses, rummaging around in his pockets for his wallet. Pushing a sizable amount of bills into Baekhyun’s hands he turns to Sehun with a pout, “Did you know about this?”

“Me?” Sehun mouths wordlessly, “Yeah I knew.”

“How?” Minseok chokes. They'd been so careful, kept their distance while working, allowing themselves only the briefest of moments to indulge in their emotions. Their time together is always rushed, hurried. Curious touches over clothes whenever Sehun left the room, that one time where Luhan sank to his knees, sucking Minseok off under their shared desk. 

They were carefree, but still careful; fixing ties and wayward strands of hair before anyone had a chance to notice.

“The sexual tension was _unbearable_ ,” Sehun says smugly, the brat, “Then one day Luhan walked into work with a hickey.” 

Luhan laughs, before he reaches up, kissing him hard on the mouth. He fists his hands in the lapels of Minseok’s suit, letting out a breathy sigh against his lips. Bliss or relief, he's not entirely sure, but being open with him like this, it feels like a combination of both. They're met with hoots and hollers, someone (probably Baekhyun) gracing them with a wolf whistle. Luhan draws back with a twinkle in his eye and a tongue tracing across his lower lip. 

“Gross,” Jongdae says, pushing identical manilla folders into each of their hands. He's written _Welcome to the Real World_ on the front in black Sharpie, which has been hastily scribbled out and replaced with _The EX Project for Dummies_ , “This will explain everything.” 

“Everything?” Minseok tenses. Luhan looks at him oddly.

Jongdae nods. “Everything.”

\------

Jongdae leads them to separate rooms to read over the thick files. Minseok sits on the bed in his designated room, thumbing anxiously at the paper within. 

He wants to know, desperately. But he doesn't want to see the information on himself the file contains, doesn't want to know. He doesn't want Luhan to know.

With a sigh, he opens the file: 

_This is stolen information from highly secret government files. I risked my life for you assholes._

Minseok snorts, Jongdae’s introductory notes contrasting greatly to the professional language he's sure to find within the rest of the documents.

 _Some of these were sent to me directly, others transcribed from Doctor Kim’s research notes in the facility, which I have been actively watching through their security system._

Not one, but two government agencies that Jongdae has hacked into. He downplays his skills, but he's impressive. 

_I think Doctor Kim knew I was spying on him. So he started leaving me little love notes._

Attached are hi-res photographs of the so-called Love Notes; EX Call Signs, alongside dates, times and locations. Minseok notes that Luhan’s are a day before he was found by the authorities. 

Release dates. 

Luhan didn’t escape, he was _allowed to leave_. 

More answers that birth only questions. 

_Each EX Project as a base modification, contains enhanced strength, speed, stamina, pain tolerance and heightened senses. These traits were drawn from the largely unsuccessful SN project._

Doctor Kim’s first test subjects were his co-workers, the other missing scientists from the photo Luhan kept in the case file. According to Jongdae’s notes, the missing members are in hiding, but from who he doesn’t disclose. The deceased members died as a result of the experiments, paving the way for Minseok, and the men in the other rooms to survive the ordeal. Men of science reduced to mistakes to be learnt from. 

_Using SN-33-ON’s DNA in EX-0-12 has proved efficient, yet with troubling side effects. While the display of strength is greater than his predecessor, EX-012 recalls memories of the former experiment. We have resorted to memory wiping techniques taken from our allies in order to reverse the problem._

The memory loss explained; Minseok lost his memories as Doctor Kim tried to erase the thoughts in his head that weren’t his own. 

He flicks through the files, some of the information he’s aware of; Baekhyun’s sight, Chanyeol’s apparent inability to perish in fire, Zitao’s inability to age. Some he has not yet become privy to, such as Yixing’s rapid healing, and his intention to be a walking first aid kit on the battlefield.

_Grafting skin or tissue from EX-0-10 to any soldier within the project will result in a rapidly healing wound. The DNA from this project will also form the base of cloned agents._

Where they have strengths they also have weaknesses-- Jongin is fast, fast twitch muscle fibres on overdrive, but his bones are fragile and will shatter if he hits something too fast and too hard. Kyungsoo tires easily, Baekhyun super sensitive to sunlight. 

Sehun will get dizzy, delirious, an overload of oxygen if he breathes too deeply. Minseok hates that he’s been so focused on Luhan, on Luhan’s face when he smiles or laughs, the way Luhan looks at Minseok when he thinks he’s not looking. He’s been so absorbed by his partner that he’s forgotten that they’re a _team_ not a duo. He feels unbelievably guilty.

_A new use for EX-0-07 has been discovered. His subtle seduction skills have exceeded all expectations, all staff are currently enamoured with the personnel. It's safe to say that more than half the staff are in love with him, and they are all of the opinion that he feels the same. The subject has picked up on these abilities, using them to receive additional portions of food during meals._

Minseok freezes. Reading over Luhan’s file again and again, he sees the words as they swim behind his eyelids. Luhan has seduction abilities, and he uses them to get what he wants. Minseok can’t breathe, he’s lowered his defences to someone who is simply using him-- whatever he has that Luhan wants, it has not yet been obtained. For what other reason would he continue the facade? 

“That makes so much more sense now,” Sehun slinks into Minseok’s room, “Like, everything is so unbelievably clear.” 

“What do you mean?” Minseok’s throat is dry. He’s spent so much time dwelling on Luhan’s file that he’s ignored the rest of the information. For once, Sehun is the more informed member of their team, and Minseok is left asking the questions.

“How the government shut down the project?” Sehun looks at him with a questioning gaze, “And the staff were paid off by The Red Moon Syndicate to continue the research?” He flails about the room excitedly, pacing as he recites the information, “And how _heroic_ Doctor Kim is, sneaking Luhan and Yixing out of the building, and letting Jongdae steal the information to give to us?” 

He doesn’t stop, speaking through Minseok’s silence, “And _our_ part, oh this is great! We were supposed to alert the government that the project was still running, so they’d come and shut it down!” 

“Uh, sure.” Minseok replies distractedly, barely absorbing the information. He’s been handed the final pieces of the puzzle, years of work finally coming to fruition, but he can’t seem to care, not at this point. Later, once he’s come to terms with the page in front of him, he’ll read over the files and find out all the details. For now, he’s content to sit in his own misery.

”Oh,” Sehun spots the page Minseok has been reading repeatedly, eyes boring into the paper “I suppose that makes sense, too.”

“What do you mean?” His hands tighten around the paper. 

“I was in love with Luhan, when I first met him,” Sehun sighs, picking at his nails anxiously, as if he’s scared of Minseok’s reaction, “And I thought he felt the same.” 

Minseok’s eyes snap up, glaring at Sehun with an almost ferocious intensity. 

“Chill!” Sehun raises his hands in surrender, “It was for like, a week. It stopped pretty much the same time I noticed how much he was staring at _you_.” 

“It didn’t mean anything,” Minseok sighs, closing the folder, “I just have something he wants.”

“Have you ever considered that it’s _you_ he wants?” In this moment, Sehun sounds wise beyond his years. Minseok doesn’t reply, “Just, read the rest of the file, okay?” 

He leaves Minseok’s room, and leaves Minseok to be consumed by his own emotions. 

\------

“Wake up, sleepy head,” Luhan’s voice breaks through Minseok’s subconscious, rousing him from sleep. He doesn’t realise he’s drifted off, body exhausted from such an emotionally taxing day.

Luhan slides under the covers with him, hands exploring his chest over his shirt. Minseok wants to pull away, confront Luhan on his lies, his true intentions, but it feels so _nice_. He sighs, allowing himself to be lulled into a false sense of security, drowns in the deceit of Luhan’s fingertips. 

Minseok finds himself pushed into the mattress, Luhan straddling his legs and mouthing hot and wet against his neck; Luhan seems to be extracting some form of delayed revenge-- sucking at skin with purpose, using his tongue and teeth and lips to paint purple across Minseok’s neck. 

Hands undo the buttons of his dress shirt, Minseok makes a noise of protest but Luhan decides he’s better off whining into his mouth instead; occupying Minseok’s lips with his own, swallowing any and all of Minseok’s attempts to protest when he tries to draw a breath. 

He threads his fingers through Luhan’s hair, plays with the strands, twirls them between his fingers. It’s too slow for Luhan’s liking, too soft, not enough passion; he bites on Minseok’s bottom lip, slips his tongue through when Minseok moans. 

Dropping his palms to Luhan’s hips, Minseok pulls them closer together, grinds against Luhan and the intensity of their kiss deepens, Luhan whining against his lips with every brush of their bodies. 

Minseok is the most pathetic kind of masochist, indulging in everything Luhan offers, knowing it's all a lie, but he’s too far gone. He’s too in love with the man who drags his nails down Minseok’s now bare chest. He relishes in the fleeting moment, because he knows that once Luhan succeeds on his mission, whatever it may be, he’ll be gone. The only thing that will remain are his memories. 

“I knew it,” Luhan hisses, and Minseok belatedly realises that he’s lowered his guard, allowed for his chest to be revealed. In the light, the 99 inked above his heart are clearly visible, “The constant need for cold, the fact that you slow down the second it gets hot. I knew it was you.” 

Minseok doesn’t reply, he doesn’t need to. There’s no denying the mark on his chest, the evidence clearly displayed in the files he’s thrown to the floor. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Luhan’s voice shakes. He sounds angry, distraught. Like there’s an onslaught of emotions threatening to consume him. All the while he still presses his lips against Minseok’s jawline, as if the soft pressure will loosen his lips, will him to talk, “Why didn’t you trust me?” 

“What are you playing at, Luhan?” He sighs in defeat. Minseok doesn’t pull away, cherishing the final moments he spends in Luhan’s arms, “What do you want from me?” 

“The truth--” Luhan starts. He stares Minseok in the eyes, brows furrowing in concern, “That’s not what you meant.” 

“You read my file, I read yours,” He says, closing his eyes, “So I’ll ask again; what is it that you want?” 

“You.” Luhan’s response is blunt, he pokes Minseok in the chest, right on his tattoo, “Leader or not, I want you.” 

“Luhan--” 

“Finish my file, Minseok.” Luhan interrupts, rolling off Minseok with grace and retrieving the files from the ground, “Apparently I can’t make people fall in love with me for longer than a few weeks.”

He scans the page Luhan hands him, taking in the additional information he’s missed; lo and behold, Jongdae’s files state that the state of infatuation isn’t long lasting. The ability is intended as a defence mechanism, something to get Luhan out of danger, and with enough of a window to create considerable distance between Luhan and a would-be attacker. 

Minseok lets out a sigh of relief he didn’t know he was holding. 

“I’ll ignore the fact that you doubted me,” Luhan is back on him in an instant, tracing his fingers across the tattoo on Minseok’s chest, “But I won’t ignore the fact that you _lied_ to me.”

“I thought I was a failed experiment,” Minseok admits, finally, “I thought I was the prototype for the real thing. I didn’t know I had any sort of _powers_.” 

“You’re a reverse Chanyeol,” Luhan snickers, but his face transforms from mirth to seriousness in a heartbeat, “I could submerge your face in liquid nitrogen.” 

“Why does that sound like a threat?” Minseok mutters. 

“Because it is,” Luhan replies simply, “I mean, you’d survive. But I can’t imagine you’d like it.” 

“Is that your way of telling me to be more open with you in the future?” Minseok can’t help but grin, especially as Luhan links their hands together, pushing him into the mattress. There’s a familiar fire in his eyes, a small twinkle. 

“No, it’s my way of saying _I love you_.” Luhan smirks. 

Minseok replies using his lips and his hands. He’s always preferred the non-verbal approach to romance, anyway. 

\------

“So, we’re all up to date, then?” Jongdae asks as Luhan and Minseok shuffle into the common area. Once again they’re met with cheers and wolf whistles, the group of soldiers easily accepting them as one of their own. Minseok hears Sehun mutter _gross_ under his breath. Luhan stares at the collection of marks he’s left across Minseok’s neck and chest with pride. He figures it’s easier to tell the others of his position by walking into the room shirtless; his matching tattoo on display. It also allows Luhan’s formerly hidden possessive streak to show just as equally-- now that they don’t have to hide their relationship Luhan has become overly clingy; not that Minseok minds, it’s just something he’ll have to get used to. 

“The only reason we’re not talking about your tattoo is because we already kinda guessed,” Sehun says. During the time Luhan and Minseok took fighting and subsequently reconciling, the young agent has joined the pile of limbs on the couch, long arms looped around Chanyeol and Baekhyun’s necks, feet resting on Kyungsoo’s lap. Minseok does a double take; these men are practically _strangers_ , people Sehun’s met only once. “You ain’t slick.” 

“Please don’t talk like that,” Jongdae says from his position in front of the computer, “And gear up, everyone. We’ve got company.” 

There’s a scramble, a flurry of movement. No one comments on Jongdae’s choice of words, or how they fit right in with a cliche, B-Rated action movie. Baekhyun’s already at the staircase, obnoxious glasses perched on his nose and his signature rifle in his hands. There’s another on his back, confined within a case. It’s probably something a little more powerful, a little more defensive. He disappears up the staircase wordlessly.

In the interim, Kyungsoo has pulled a pair of fingerless gloves seemingly out of nowhere, and Minseok can make out metal spikes protruding from the knuckles. If Kyungsoo’s strength is anything like the stories makes it out to be, one punch has the potential to do a lot of damage; the spikes, as well as the power behind them, would literally tear flesh from bone. 

Chanyeol scrambles for the lighter on the floor, with Jongin, Zitao and Yixing disappearing into the back rooms of the bunkers, returning armed almost to the teeth. Even Sehun, who has not fought beside them before, steels himself, checking the weapon strapped to his waist and calming his nerves.

“There’s no time to change,” Jongdae says, but he grins anyway. He hands Minseok and Luhan a gun each, the almost endless supply of weapons coming out of nowhere. Jongdae’s bunker holds a lot of secrets, it seems. More secrets than just the people hiding within it. Considering the amount of ammunition and the wide array of weaponry available, Jongdae has enough fire power for a small army, or enough bullets to take one down. 

“So,” Luhan says, checking his gun. He looks unbearably attractive like this, all bed head and determination, “You and me against the world, huh?” 

“Alright Bonnie and Clyde,” Jongdae scoffs, the gears in his arms whirring and he himself armed. It's taken Minseok a while to notice it, but his right eye seems to glow in the dimmed light, robotic like the rest of him, “I'm pretty sure there's a horde of clones on my doorstep ready to kill you fuckers and steal your DNA.” 

“Wonderful.” Strangely Minseok feels no fear in the face of death, his hands steady and nerves calm. It's probably part of the experiments, they have just enough adrenaline to survive a fire situation, but not so much that they'll be sent into shock. Perfect soldiers, the height of human evolution. 

“You’re not going to be of much use,” Jongdae says, gesturing to the three of them. Sehun remains still on the couch, quiet and pensive, “These guys are pros, and you don't know how they operate.” 

“So what do we do?” Luhan asks, Minseok and Sehun both look to Jongdae in search of answers, 

“Keep behind them, and try not to die.” Jongdae says seriously. 

He flicks a switch and the roof folds open. 

Minseok tightens his grip around the handle of his gun, the metal digging into his palm almost uncomfortably. 

They ascend the metal staircase.

The first official battle of the EX Project begins.

\------

They stand in formation within the kitchen, a kind of diamond shape with Kyungsoo leading the charge. He’s flanked on his left and right by Jongin and Zitao respectively, with Chanyeol and Yixing forming the points to the side. Minseok falls into place behind Yixing, Sehun and Luhan taking their mirrored positions behind Chanyeol. Jongdae forms the base, nudging Sehun so he stands a little more to the left. 

Baekhyun is missing, presumably covering them from his customary rooftop position. 

A series of complicated hand signals from Kyungsoo, everyone raises their weapons as they walk slowly towards the front door. It’s cramped, and the formation is surely useless. Once they reach the streets they’ll probably branch out, cover more ground. Minseok remembers the junk in Jongdae’s front yard, their heights and positioning suddenly making sense; cover, makeshift trenches. It’s like Jongdae has been preparing for this, has optimised his house for all out skirmish. 

A knock sounds at the door, heavy and frantic. Their slow movements slow to a halt and Kyungsoo aims his rifle, ready to shoot through wood. 

“Jongdae!” Someone yells, the rhythmic pounding intensifying as he cries out, “C’mon, let me in!” 

Eight heads swivel in Jongdae’s direction, eight questioning gazes fall on the cyborg as he shrugs. 

“I guess Doc made it out after all.” He says, gesturing at the entryway, “Will someone let him in before he has a panic attack?” 

It’s Kyungsoo who moves first, weapon aimed at the approximate height of someone’s head as he swings the door open. 

Doctor Kim Junmyeon doesn’t look like a man of nearly sixty, skin smooth and youthful, hair still thick and glossy. He’s still wearing a lab coat, PPE from his workplace, a pair of safety glasses resting on top of his head. Doctor Kim may not be _part_ of the project, but he’s definitely reaped some of the benefits of his work; eternal youth makes work a whole lot easier, or so Minseok supposes. 

“How many?” Kyungsoo asks, voice rough. He doesn’t seem to question Junmyeon’s appearance, as if he knew the Doctor would soon too make his escape. There’s a lot of things Minseok missed in the file he was given, and Doctor Kim’s escape plans seem to be one of them, “How many and who are they?” 

“EX-0-88 and EX-0-10,” Junmyeon wheezes, trying to catch his breath, “About twenty?” 

“Why are they always _my_ clones?” Jongin whines, pouting like a petulant child. There’s something so off-putting by a genetically modified soldier, armed for combat and acting like a teenager. They’re living, breathing weapons of war, but each and every one of them is still so fundamentally _human_ , like their base personalities couldn’t be changed or modified. Or perhaps it was all on purpose, to keep parts of their humanity intact, have them aware of the consequences of their actions, allow them to feel guilt and fear, “Why don’t they clone someone else for a change?” 

“Because you’re fast,” Junmyeon says, “You can cover more ground.” 

“And Yixing can heal,” Chanyeol nods along enthusiastically, far too happy about the turn of events. Or far too happy that he’s picked up on their enemy’s cloning trend, who knows, “It makes perfect sense.” 

A loud crack, a gunshot firing from above. Baekhyun’s made contact. 

“They’re here,” Kyungsoo hisses. Minseok sweeps an eye over the group, making sure they’re all ready, prepared for what they’re about to do. Absentmindedly he realises that he’s quietly slipping into his leadership role, like it was something bred into him. And he supposes it is, if his intended purpose, his position within the group is anything to go by. But in comparison to the rest, he really has no other special talent; being able to survive the cold is one thing, but he can’t move like Jongin, heal like Yixing and Zitao, fight like Kyungsoo and Chanyeol, “You know the drill.”

“I don’t!” Sehun cries. Minseok watches as Kyungsoo resists the urge to facepalm. 

“Don’t get shot,” Chanyeol deadpans, “That’s like, the core instruction for every mission.” 

“I can heal you if you do,” Yixing supplies, offering a small smile in Sehun’s direction. Apparently the young agent hasn’t forgotten his former hero worship of Yixing’s clone, and practically swoons at the action, “But with every swatch of skin I take, it leaves a nasty scar, so try not to.”

“I’ll do my best.” Sehun salutes awkwardly. It diffuses the tension, with Kyungsoo finally giving in to temptation and burying his head within his hands. The others laugh, a good-natured round of chuckles, before Baekhyun’s rifle fires again, the sound of the spent shells hitting the roof like raindrops. 

“We _could_ just let Baek handle it.” Chanyeol flicks the lighter on, ready to dip his fingers into the flames and watch his skin ignite.

“Or we could get out of the basement and do something useful?” Zitao retorts with a roll of his eyes. He doesn’t see it, but Chanyeol pokes his tongue out at the back of Zitao’s head. 

More gunshots, though this time they don’t sound anything like Baekhyun’s Springfield M1A; they’re something a little smaller, something a bit more close range. 

The clones are here.

“Get to the basement,” Jongdae instructs, pointing Doctor Kim in the direction of the switch to his hidden hideaway, “And don’t come out unless it’s safe.” 

Nodding frantically, Junmyeon walks briskly into the kitchen. Minseok doesn’t watch him as he passes through his field of vision, his eyes, and the eyes of the other men all lie on the door, too focused on the potential danger in front of them. 

Familiar whirring, a solid thud, Junmyeon’s footsteps as he rushes down the stairs and into safety. 

“Let’s go!” Kyungsoo roars, waiting until the floor re-seals itself before uttering his battle cry. There’s no reason to be silent or secretive, the battalion of clones know where they are, know who they are. 

The echoing gunshots draw ever closer, with Minseok and his men inching towards the battle with small, careful steps. Baekhyun’s holding his own, but he seems outnumbered, his muffled curses easily heard from inside the house. 

Wood splinters and the door all but disintegrated in front of their eyes, Someone lets out a gasp, probably Luhan, as a Jongin clone steps inside, weapon raised and aimed straight at Kyungsoo’s head. 

Minseok doesn’t think; the gun in his hand is unfamiliar but he still makes the shot. Apparently his reflexes are quicker than even Jongin’s, because the bullet he fires is lodged between the clones eyes before anyone else can even take aim.

Unblinking, Kyungsoo advances, each member of the team falling into step. There’s no time to stop and congratulate Minseok on his quick reflexes; it’s his _job_ to cover the backs of his team, like it's their job to cover his. Just because he’s new, fresh meat, doesn’t give him special treatment. Anyone could have taken the shot with the same reaction, there are bigger things to worry about, a hoard of clones rapidly approaching their position. 

A bullet lodges into the door frame as Minseok reaches the outside world, narrowly missing his shoulder and sinking straight into wood. It’s the first of many, a volley of gunfire starting, the sound ringing out through the empty neighbourhood. Luhan grabs Minseok’s bare arm, hauling him behind one of Jongdae’s strategically placed piles of junk, blindly returning fire, aiming the weapon in his hand with deadly precision. 

Kyungsoo’s the first line of defence, as always. His weapon of choice is an M249 SAW, it tears through the clones with ease, with any stragglers being picked off by a combination of Baekhyun’s well-timed shots and the blanket fire supplied by the members of the EX Project. It’s not Minseok’s first gun fight, not the first time he’s been in a _Kill or Be Killed_ situation, but it’s the most intense, the most exhilarating. 

It’s also the first time he’s had Luhan by his side, laughing in disbelief as he lands another shot, picks off another Yixing clone who has survived the combined firepower of the rest of their group. 

“I think there’s more than twenty!” Luhan yells. The others grunt in affirmation, having overheard his cries intended for Minseok. And it’s true. There’s at least thirty bodies lying in the street, with more coming in. They’re a mass produced army, probably worth more than the combined GDP of several small nations, and here Minseok is, killing them without thought. It’d probably be cheaper to set fire to a pile of money than to send more clones, he thinks idly, more cost effective to send _actual_ people and soldiers. 

Chanyeol finally finds himself within reaching distance of a Jongin clone, Minseok watches as he deftly lights a hand on fire, pushing the burning palm into the clone’s face with a shout of glee. Chanyeol’s in his element, quite literally, laughing maniacally as the clone ignites, crumbling to the ground with a pained scream. 

“Could you _not_ laugh while killing me?” Jongin yells over his shoulder. He complains, but he still shoots his own clone in the face as he rounds the barricades, “That’s fucking creepy.” 

“Says the guy who is _literally_ killing _himself_ ,” Chanyeol retorts, grabbing and Yixing clone by the hem of his pants and watching as the flames consume him too. The healing ability of the clone seems to keep him alive for the most part, still firing wildly at every set of barricades he can. Minseok ducks back behind the junk pile to shield himself from the onslaught. 

“This is fun,” Luhan says, laughing in disbelief. He pauses for a moment to press a kiss against Minseok’s mouth, the thrill of the battle fueling him to kiss deeper, slip his tongue between Minseok’s lips. 

“Why are you making out?” Baekhyun screams, having seen their little display from his bird’s nest position. He grumbles, firing at the Yixing clone that has advanced on their position while they were otherwise preoccupied, “This is _really_ not the time!” 

“You feeling left out, Byun?” Surprisingly, it’s Kyungsoo who makes the comment, lips curling into a smirk. 

“Bite me!” They all laugh, as if they were sitting around and having a casual conversation and not in the middle of a skirmish. 

The clones begin to thin out, bodies lying in piles along the sidewalk with more littering the street. Luhan has the honour of taking out the final assailant, shooting an Yixing clone in the back of the head as he advances on Jongdae’s turned back. He flops to the ground, pulling Minseok with him, and licking messily into his mouth. The adrenalin and excitement flooding through his system has Minseok kissing back just as passionately, pushing Luhan into the dying grass and threading fingers through his hair. 

“Is this going to be a regular thing?” Sehun says with a note of disgust, “Because I signed up to kick ass and breathe underwater, not watch my teammates make out.” 

“What? You feeling left out, 94?” Yixing smirks. Minseok laughs against Luhan’s lips; it’s always the quiet ones.

Minseok is consumed by the overwhelming sense of belonging; the scent of rust, of battle. The way Luhan sighs before kissing him harder, running his hands across Minseok’s torso and lingering on his tattoo. 

He’s never quite fit in, not in the Agency, not anywhere. Not really. 

It’s strange, the fact that he feels so _alive_ while surrounded by death, so comfortable as the blood of the clones dirties his skin. But Minseok supposes that it’s what he’s been made for. 

He’s a member of the EX Project, after all.

\------

_vii. EX PROJECT_

_"21 to deployed recon squadron, do you read?”_

Jongdae’s voice crackles to life in Minseok’s ear piece. By the look on Sehun’s face, he’s heard it too. Weeks of radio silence on Command’s end, and they’re finally making contact. Minseok’s first instinct is to laugh; he and Sehun are the only ones on the mission, and two people really doesn’t count for a squadron. But lingo is lingo, and he learns to muffle his mirth into the fabric of his uniform. 

He’s not quite sure _where_ they are, their helicopter transport dropping them in the middle of some sort of thick jungle. Villagers have passed by, completely unaware of Minseok and Sehun as they lay in wait, disguised by the thick underbrush. Judging by their accents, random words Minseok is able to pick up, they’re somewhere along the border of Thailand and Myanmar, and they _still_ haven’t made contact with the rest of the group. 

“Copy,” Minseok says into his mic, gesturing for Sehun to stay on guard, lest the noise of their comm system alerts someone to their presence, “What have you got for me, Jongdae?” 

“Incoming Jongswarm,” Chanyeol came up with the name, after the umpteenth time the group faced a group of Jongin clones in battle. It’s been tiring, not to mention confusing, fighting the same person over and over again. Kyungsoo had pinned a very unwilling Jongin to the floor of their barracks, laughing while Luhan and Yixing took to his hair with a bowl of bleach. There’s been far too many close calls, moments when members of their team have nearly killed Jongin instead of his clone. Drastic measures needed to be taken, “And incoming backup.” 

“Hello baby,” Luhan croons over the system, “I’ve missed you.”

“Gross,” Sehun whispers. It’s become somewhat of a catchphrase for the young soldier, especially where Minseok and Luhan are concerned, “You do realise this is an open comm?” 

“Keep the dirty talk for the bedroom, please.” Kyungsoo, exasperated as always, sighs over the communication system. He’s been bumped down to the 2IC position, now that Minseok is trained and EX Project certified, but Minseok is out on recon so often that he’s still somewhat in charge, “We just ate.” 

“Can you bring some snacks along with your backup,” Sehun asks. It’s been a long time, nearly a year of covert missions, and he’s still not quite used to the taste of military ration packs and dehydrated food. Minseok isn’t either, and he longs for breaks so he can go home to his apartment, sit on his couch and eat takeout with Luhan, just like they used to, “I’m fucking starving.” 

“You were genetically modified to _not_ starve,” Sometimes Minseok forgets that Doctor Kim has access to the comm system, claiming it’s for observational purposes. He’s the co-founder of the newly reformed EX Project, a combined military and NIS mission. He identifies as Call Sign EX-0-01, an inside joke amongst the team that everyone involved in the mission _must_ have a number, and _must_ bear the tattoo, “Just a reminder.” 

“Just because they can’t die of starvation doesn’t mean they’re not craving some real food,” Director Wu is EX-0-00, and Minseok had to hold his hand while the tattoo artist inked the mark into his chest. Sometimes when he’s not on comm, Minseok like to laugh about it, “Like this burger I’m currently eating.”

“I hate you,” Zitao’s voice joins the chat, nasal and whining, “I hate you as much as I hate Jongswarms.” 

“I’m really, _really_ sick of killing Jongin,” Chanyeol says, and it seems like the whole team is finally involved in the mission, if the sound of Baekhyun and Jongin bickering in the background is any indication, “Can’t they clone anyone else.” 

“I destroyed the rest of your DNA samples before I got out,” Junmyeon reminds them, like he hasn’t told them this story dozens of times already; how he didn’t know the project was being funded by organized crime, and when he found out, made sure to take steps to sabotage the sale of his _precious_ creations as tools of war for enemy forces. Zitao calls him a hero each and every time the story ends, so that’s probably why he keeps telling it, “A full squadron would be much harder to deal with, you should be thanking me.” 

“Imagine a platoon of Chanyeol clones,” Baekhyun interrupts, “That would be hell.” 

“Imagine if you shut up?” Chanyeol retorts childishly. Minseok hopes that Chanyeol keeps the fire powers to himself in the upcoming skirmish, there’s far too many flammable objects in the rainforest for Minseok’s liking. 

“How’s your new suit, 99?” With strengths come weaknesses, but with the combined brainpower of Jongdae and Junmyeon (as well as the combined budgets of the military and NIS) they’re easily overcome. Minseok’s suit acts like a refrigerator, lines of liquid nitrogen circulating in between layers of insulating fabric, making sure his core temperature stays nice and low. He’s a lot more alert, his movements faster and far more deadly. The newest addition to his uniform is a release valve, something Jongdae thought up after watching the old Batman movies, inspired by the character Mr. Freeze. In times of extreme danger, Minseok can project streams of liquid nitrogen onto his enemies, shattering their bodies after they freeze to death. It’s been a fun little trick to do, but the temptation to use it on his teammates when they interrupt his alone time with Luhan is a little too strong. 

“It’s great,” Minseok is looking forward to using it on the upcoming horde of Jongin clones. It’s worth wasting his precious cold just to see the look on Jongin’s face as his doubles fall the ground and shatter, “Thanks Doc.” 

“Jongswarm ETA five minutes,” Jongdae reminds them, “Boys, where you at?” 

Someone sits on Minseok’s back, wrapping their arms around his neck in a strange sort of immobilising embrace. 

“I’ve missed you.” Luhan whispers in his ear, kissing his cheek loud enough for it to echo through the communication system. 

“I take it you’ve made contact, then,” Jongdae drawls. He speaks as if he hasn’t hacked into some sort of satellite system and isn’t watching everything unfold on his screen back at the base, “So nice of you to tell me. So good of you to keep to protocol.” 

“What he means is,” Kyungsoo’s boot nudges at Luhan’s side, pushing the weight from Minseok’s back, “No canoodling until we’re done here.” 

“They’re almost on top of you, and there’s a lot of them,” Baekhyun says. He’s missing from the group yet again, probably half way up some sort of tree, waiting to pick off as many of the clones as physically possible, “Prepare your assholes, boys, you’re about to get fucked.” 

“I swear to God, Byun, I will fuck _your_ asshole if you don’t start shooting.” Kyungsoo hisses into his mic. 

A single gunshot. Minseok can hear it both through the comm, and echoing in the distance. The clones are close. 

“Is that a promise?” Baekhyun giggles. Kyungsoo grumbles in reply, but Minseok can spot the dusting of blush decorating their Sergeant’s cheeks, Interesting. 

Minseok prepares himself for the incoming attack, it’s just a regular day at the office for him by this point; he knows Jongin’s weaknesses as well as his own, and he doubts he’ll even break a sweat while he takes them down. 

“Alright boys,” He says, taking his position at the top of the formation, Call Sign 99, the leader of the EX Project, “The sooner we kill Jongin, the sooner we go home.” 

They erupt in cheers as the first clones make their appearance, Minseok takes a deep breath and pulls the trigger. 

It’s not what he thought would happen, walking into that interrogation room on a simple John Doe case. In fact, even his wildest imagination couldn’t compare to his reality. There’s a certain sort of weight that comes with being a genetically modified soldier, a burden that weighs more than his pack, or Baekhyun when he decides he’s sick of walking and wants to be carried. He’s on a mission to find all evidence of himself, of his platoon, the scientific research that created him still circling the black market, clones of their team popping up in the midst of battle worldwide. It’s a huge task to undertake, but Minseok is more than ready to devote the rest of his life towards his goal. He’s on a search and destroy mission, one where he finds himself and erases the evidence. 

It should be daunting, terrifying and sometimes it is; but then Minseok catches Luhan’s gaze, watches in awe as he pushes a Bowie knife through the chest of yet another clone, and all fear and doubt fades away. 

Minseok has a great working environment, plenty of travel perks and a generous paycheck. He has a beautiful home to rest in after long months away, and a loving boyfriend to push against the door and kiss until they’re breathless the second they cross the threshold. 

It’s not the white picket fence retirement he was dreaming of, but it’s close. 

Who cares about a few minor details, anyway. 

 

**SECRET SOLDIERS????**

_Everyone knows the conspiracy, a group of genetically modified humans working within our very own government for reasons unknown. Some say they’re immortal, others say they’re just well trained, but no one can deny their existence, especially when informants are so willing to contact me with details of their interactions with these mysterious men._

_Apparently, their sniper is very attractive, like the genetic manipulation makes them INCREDIBLY HOT as well as killing machines._

_Anyway, there’s a new piece of information that we’ve received, and it’s all very confusing. Maybe one of our readers can make sense of this? Someone who has allegedly worked with one of these “secret soldiers” has disclosed this information about their mission:_

_**EX-PROJECT MISSION #2579** _

__PRIMARY OBJECTIVE: FIND EX TEMPLATE, DESTROY.  
SECONDARY OBJECTIVE: FIND THE SHADOW, TRACE IT TO THE SOURCE.  
OTHER MISSION DETAILS: MAKE SURE EX-0-07 AND EX-0-99 DON’T FUCK DURING THE MISSION goddamn it guys I swear to God if I find you at it again I’m going to cut your dicks off. 

_ MISSION STATUS: INCOMPLETE _

_**/END REPORT/** _


End file.
